MARGARET 
FUMFHREY 


RANDMSNAUY§COMPANY 


SOUTHED 

JNWHRSITY  OF  CAL 
LIBRARY 

,  os   ANGELES.  CALIF 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


PILGRIM 


STORIES 


B]odgepodge  for  our  supper/ 
skid  Bradford, p«pip0.  irtfotbe  kettle" 


PILGRIM  STORIES 


BY 


MARGARET   B.   PUMPHREY 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 

LUCY  FITCH   PERKINS 


RAND  MCNALLY  &  COMPANY 

CHICAGO  NEW  YORK  LONDON 


78290 


Copyright.  IQIO,  by 

RAND.  McNALLY  &  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


Mad*  in  U.  S.  A. 


0-25 


THE  FOREWORD 

THIS  book  grew  out  of  a  desire  on  the  part  of 
a  class  in  a  primary  school  to  read  for 
themselves  the  stories  that  were  being 
told  them  of  the  Pilgrims,  their  life  in  England, 
their  sojourn  in  Holland,  and  their  experiences 
in  America. 

The  stories  were  mimeographed,  simply  illus 
trated,  and  used  as  reading  lessons.  It  soon 
became  evident  that  the  children  were  living  in 
these  stories  from  day  to  day,  feeling  a  personal 
interest  in  the  different  characters,  and  a  personal 
acquaintance  with  them.  An  increased  interest 
in  reading  and  a  consequent  increase  in  ability  to 
read  well  were  the  most  immediate  results  of 
this  work. 

A  desire  to  know  more  of  a  story  than  these 
lessons  gave,  was  another  valuable  result.  For 
this  desire  on  the  part  of  the  children  to  see  a 
story  in  its  natural  setting,  and  to  know  what 
came  before  and  what  followed  after,  showed  that 
they  had  reached  the  period  which  is  a  happy  time 
for  laying  a  strong  foundation  upon  which  to 
build  later  work ;  a  time  in  which  the  awakened 
interest  in  people  and  events  should  be  used  to 
establish  a  firm  basis  for  future  reading  and  study 
in  both  biography  and  history. 


8  The  Foreword 

The  "Pilgrim  Stories"  as  originally  written 
were  read  in  a  number  of  schools  with  the  same 
satisfactory  results.  Now,  carefully  revised  and 
graded  in  vocabulary,  they  are  offered  in  book 
form  with  the  hope  that  other  pupils  and  teachers 
may  use  them  with  equal  benefit  and  pleasure. 

The  author  gratefully  acknowledges  the  helpful 
suggestions  offered  by  Miss  Anna  H.  Morse,  of 
Charleston,  Illinois,  and  other  teachers  who  used 
the  stories  in  their  original  form;  also  her  special 
indebtedness  to  Mr.  W.  H.  Hatch,  Superintendent 
of  Schools,  Oak  Park,  Illinois,  and  Mr.  Orville  T. 
Bright,  District  Superintendent,  Chicago,  to 
whose  kind  interest  and  encouragement  the  pub 
lication  of  these  stories  is  largely  due. 

MARGARET  B. .  PUMPHREY. 


THE  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

The  Foreword 7 

PART  I 
FROM  OLD  HOMES  TO,  NEW 

At  Scrooby  Inn 15 

A  Royal  Guest 21 

Meeting  in  Secret 27 

For  Conscience'  Sake 32 

Pilgrims          35 

Away  to  Holland 40 

In  Holland 45 

The  Home  in  Amsterdam 52 

On  the  Canal 56 

The  Weekly  Scrubbing  Day 60 

A  Little  Milk  Peddler :      .  62 

Winter  in  Holland 67 

From  Amsterdam  to  Leiden 71 

In  Leiden 74 

A  Perplexing  Problem 77 

The  Sword  of  Miles  Standish 82 

Preparing  for  the  Journey 84 

Farewell  to  Holland 87 

The  "Speedwell" 9° 

The  Voyage  of  the  "Mayflower" 93 

Water  Babies 96 

Land 101 

The  First  Washing  Day  in  New  England       .      .  105 


io  The  Contents 

PAGE 
A  Wild  Land       .      .      .     '.      .      .      .      .      .      .    109 

A  Narrow  Escape      .      .'•'";      .     \      .      .      .      .115 

A  Savage  People 119 

Plymouth  Bay .      .123 

The  First  Winter  in  Plymouth 129 

Samoset 134 

The  Treaty  of  Peace 139 

Squanto 145 

Back  to  England? 149 

The  First  Thanksgiving 153 

Thanksgiving 163 

Friends  or  Foes? .      .      .164 

Tit  for  Tat 172 

Massasoit  and  the  Medicine  Men 177 

Troubles  with  the  Indians 183 

PART  II 
LITTLE  PILGRIMS  AND  THE  RED  MEN 

The  Indians  and  the  Jack-o'-Lanterns      .      .      .  189 

Two  Little  Captives 197 

The  Christmas  Candle 219 

Two  Brass  Kettles .  228 

Colonial  Schools 233 

Holidays  and  Holy  Days 237 

Suggestions  to  Teachers 248 

A  Reading  List 256 


THE  FULL-PAGE  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"'Hodgepodge    for  our    supper',   said    Bradford, 

peeping -into  the  kettle" Frontispiece 

"This  was  a  busy  day  at  Scrooby  Inn"-       .       .  14 

"She    looked   down  at  the  children    and  smiled"  20 

"From  this  high  road  the  Pilgrims  .  .  ,  could 
see  beautiful  churches,  large  shops,  and 
narrow  streets"  ....  ...  46 

"Suddenly    the    air     rang    with    the  yells  of   the 

savages" 186 

Indian  cutting  birch   bark   for  a  canoe    ...  196 
"They    saw    the    brave    boy   carrying   his   heavy 

burden" 216 

"She  passed  the  Indians  apples"        ....  2? 6 


II 


is  WAS  A  busy  %  AtScrooby  \w 


SCROOBY  INN 

IN  the  little  village  of  Scrooby  in  England,  three 
hundred  years  ago,  stood  a  beautiful  old  house. 
It  was  the  largest  one  in  the  village,  and  its 
moss-covered  roof  and  great  red   chimneys  rose 
high  above  the  cottages  about  it. 

The  house  stood  close  to  the  street,  but  behind 
it  was  a  large  garden  where  many  bright  flowers 
bloomed,  and  a  row  of  tall  trees  cast  their  pleasant 
shade.  On  one  side  of  the  garden  were  three 
round  ponds.  For  a  hundred  years  these  ponds 
had  never  failed  to  supply  fish  for  the  Friday 
dinner. 

A  great  rosebush  clung  to  the  walls  of  the  house. 
For  years  it  had  climbed  and  climbed,  until  now 
some  of  its  clustering  red  blossoms  peeped  into 
one  of  the  upper  windows.  The  whole  room  was 
sweet  with  their  fragrance.  This  old  house 
had  once  been  a  fine  palace,  but  now  it  was  used 
as  an  inn  where  travelers  might  stay  for  the  night. 

In  the  stables  beyond  the  garden  were  some 
horses  belonging  to  the  king.  When  his  messen 
gers  carried  his  letters  to  the  North  Country,  they 
always  stopped  here  to  change  horses  and  rest  for 
an  hour. 

15 


16  Pilgrim  Stories 

Only  a  few  miles  from  Scrooby  was  a  famous  old 
forest.  Every  child  in  the  village  knew  the  story 
of  Robin  Hood  and  his  merry  men  who  had  once 
lived  in  this  forest.  They  often  played  "Robin 
Hood;"  it  was  the  game  they  liked  best  of  all. 

Once  a  party  of  the  king's  friends,  who  were 
going  to  the  forest  to  hunt,  had  stayed  all  night 
at  the  inn.  This  was  a  time  always  remembered 
by  the  children  of  the  family.  They  seemed  never 
to  tire  of  talking  about  the  packs  of  hounds,  the 
beautiful  horses,  and  the  riders  in  their  gay 
hunting  dress. 

Then  there  was  the  dinner  in  the  great  dining 
hall,  and  best  of  all,  the  long  evening  when  they 
all  had  sat  about  the  fireplace  and  listened  to  the 
stories  the  hunters  told. 

The  landlord,  William  Brewster,  had  not  been 
pleased  to  have  his  children  hear  so  much  of 
the  gay  life  at  the  king's  court,  and  they  had  been 
sent  to  bed  much  earlier  than  they  wished.  The 
next  morning  when  they  awoke,  the  gay  hunting 
party  had  gone.  Had  they  really  been  there  at 
all  ?  Was  it  not  all  a  bright  dream  ? 

One  June  morning  Jonathan  Brewster  brought 
into  the  garden  the  new  boat  he  had  just  finished. 
He  was  going  to  sail  it  upon  the  fish  pond.  His 
little  sisters  stood  near  watching  the  tiny  boat 
make  its  first  trip  across  the  pond.  Fear  held  in 
her  arms  a  small  wooden  doll,  very  ugly,  but  very 


dear  to  the  little  mother.  Jonathan  wanted 
the  doll  for  a  passenger,  but  Fear  would  not 
trust  her  baby  to  the  boat  until  she  was  sure  it 
would  not  tip  over.  '. 

The  little  ship  had  hardly  touched  the  other 


"Fear  would  not  trust  her  baby  to  the  boat" 

side  when  a  distant  sound  made  the  children  spring 
to  their  feet  and  listen.  Again  they  heard  the 
long,  clear  sound  of  the  bugle. 

"It   is   the   king's   messenger!    Run   and   tell 


i8  Pilgrim  Stories 

Henry  to  get  out  a  fresh  horse!"  cried  Patience. 
But  Jonathan  was  already  far  down  the  path, 
calling  to  the  stable  boy  as  he  ran. 

Patience  drew  the  forgotten  ship  out  of  the 
water  and  ran  into  the  house  to  tell  her  father. 

There  was  a  high,  stone  wall  about  the  house 
and  garden,  and,  just  outside  the  wall,  a  ditch 
filled  with  water.  The  bridge  over  the  ditch 
might  be  drawn  up  so  none  could  cross,  but  this 
was  not  often  done. 

When  Master  Brewster  came  out  to  unlock  the 
great  iron  gate,  Patience  and  little  Fear  were 
close  at  his  side.  They  always  felt  afraid  of  the 
tall  messenger  who  looked  so  stern  and  said  so 
little,  but  they  loved  to  hear  the  clatter  of  swift 
hoofs,  and  to  see  horse  and  rider  dash  through  the 
gate  into  the  yard. 

They  had  not  long  to  wait.  Again  the  sound 
of  the  bugle  was  heard,  very  near  this  time. 
Another  minute,  and  into  the  village  street  gal 
loped  the  beautiful  black  horse  bearing  the  king's 
messenger. 

The  stable  boy  ran  to  meet  him  at  the  gate  and 
held  the  horse's  head  while  the  man  sprang  to  the 
ground. 

"I  have  a  message  for  you,  Master  Brewster," 
he  said.  "Queen  Anne,  with  her  knights  and 
ladies,  journeys  from  her  home  in  the  North. 
They  will  rest  for  the  night  in  your  house." 


At  Scrooby  Inn  ig 

Patience  waited  to  hear  no  more,  but  flew  into 
the  house  to  tell  her  mother  this  wonderful  news. 

"Mother!  Oh,  mother!"  she  called.  "Where 
is  mother?" 

From  room  to  room  she  ran  until  she  found  her 
quiet,  sweet-faced  mother  at  her  spinning  wheel. 

"Oh,  mother,  the  queen  is  coming  here  to  stay 
all  night!  She  has  ever  so  many  knights,  and 
ladies,  and  servants  with  her.  May  I  help  get 
the  best  bedroom  ready  for  the  queen?  The 
messenger  has  come,  and  he  is  telling  father  all 
about  it." 

' '  What  are  you  talking  about  ?  You  are  excited, 
Patience." 

"The  child  is  right,"  said  her  father,  who  had 
just  come  into  the  room.  The  queen  is  on  her 
way  to  her  new  home  in  England  you  know,  and 
the  party  will  spend  the  night  here." 

"There  is  little  time  to  prepare  for  royal  guests, 
but  we  will  make  them  welcome,"  said  Mistress 
Brewster,  quietly. 


"She  looked  down  at  the  children  and  smiled' 


A  ROYAL  GUEST 

THIS  was  a  busy  day  at  Scrooby  Inn.    Before 
the  sun  had  set,  the  great  house  with  its 
fifty    rooms    had    been    made    ready    to 
receive  the  party.     The  long  table  in  the  dining 
hall  was  spread  with  the   finest  linen.     In  the 
kitchen  the  three  big  brick  ovens  were  filled  with 
browning    bread,     cakes,     and    other     dainties. 
Fowls  were  being  roasted,  before  the  open  fire. 

Many  times  that  afternoon  the  children  ran  to 
an  upper  window  to  look  for  the  royal  guests 
The  sun  sank  lower  and  lower,  but  still  they  did 
not  come. 

"Perhaps  they  have  lost  their  way,"  said  Fear. 

"They  will  have  a  guide,  so  they  cannot  lose 
their  way,"  replied  Jonathan,  "but  perhaps  they 
have  been  met  by  robbers." 

In  those  days  travelers  were  often  overtaken  by 
bands  of  rough  men  who  robbed  them  of  money 
and  horses.  So  Jonathan's  words  filled  their 
hearts  with  dismay.  There  were  three  very  sober 
little  faces  in  the  window. 

But  before  the  sun  was  quite  gone,  the  thrilling 
note  of  a  bugle  was  heard  and  those  faces  bright 
ened  in  a  moment.  Out  of  a  little  grove  far  down 
the  road,  appeared  a  company  of  horsemen. 
Nearer  and  nearer  they  came  until  the  first  rider, 


22  Pilgrim  Stories 

proudly  bearing  the  red  and  gold  banner  of  his 
queen,  was  in  plain  view. 

Upon  the  shining  spears  and  plumed  helmets  of 
the  knights  who  rode  behind  him,  fell  the  last  rays 
of  the  setting  sun,  making  them  glisten  like  gold. 

Within  the  square  formed  by  the  horsemen  was 
a  splendid  coach,  heavily  carved  and  richly  gilded. 
Upon  the  driver's  seat  rode  two  coachmen, 
dressed  in  gay  liveries  of  red  and  gray.  Two 
footmen  sat  upon  the  high  seat  behind.  The 
coach  was  drawn  by  six  fine  black  horses,  which 
arched  their  beautiful  necks  and  daintily  lifted 
their  slender  feet  as  they  sped  toward  the  village. 

The  party  was  soon  so  near  that  the  sound  of 
the  horses'  feet  could  be  heard,  and,  sometimes, 
the  clear  ring  of  their  silver  bridles. 

The  news  of  the  royal  visit  had  spread  through 
the  town,  and  at  every  gate  was  a  group  of  vil 
lagers  eager  to  greet  the  queen  and  her  party. 
As  they  rode  through  the  street  the  air  rang  with 
cries  of,  "Long  live  the  queen!" 

The  great  gates  of  Scrooby  Inn  were  thrown 
open,  and  a  maid  was  sent  to  bring  the  children 
into  the  garden,  where  William  Brewster  and 
his  entire  household  had  gathered  to  receive 
the  queen. 

There  was  a  moment  of  breathless  waiting,  then 
over  the  bridge  and  into  the  yard  swept  the  dazz 
ling  company  of  knights,  and  the  splendid  coach. 


A  Royal  Guest  23 

The  footmen  sprang  to  the  ground  and  opened 
the  doors.  Again  rang  the  cry,  "Long  live  the 
queen!" 

Jonathan  waved  and  shouted  with  the  rest,  but 
little  Patience  was  silent.  As  she  glanced  from 
one  to  another  of  the  four  ladies  who  stepped 
from  the  coach,  a  look  of  disappointment  clouded 
her  face.  She  was  looking  for  a  lady  with  many 
strings  of  jewels  about  her  bare  throat,  and  a 
sparkling  crown  upon  her  head. 

Patience  had  seen  pictures  of  many  queens ;  all 
had  worn  crowns  and  jewels.  Surely  there  was 
no  queen  in  this  party.  "Jonathan,  where  is  the 
queen?  I  do  not  see  her,"  she  whispered,  tears 
of  disappointment  filling  her  eyes. 

"Hush!"  answered  Jonathan,  softly.  "That 
is  she  in  the  blue  velvet  gown  and  the  hat  with 
the  long  white  plumes.  You  did  not  think  she 
would  wear  a  crown  when  traveling,  did  you?" 

Perhaps  the  lady  may  have  heard  something 
for  she  looked  down  at  the  children  and  smiled. 
As  Patience  looked  into  the  kind,  beautiful  face, 
her  disappointment  melted  away  and  she  forgave 
the  queen  for  not  wearing  her  jewels. 

Jonathan  and  Patience  and  Fear  saw  very 
little  of  the  queen  and  her  company  that  night, 
for  Mistress  Brewster  believed  that  children 
should  be  neither  seen  nor  heard  when  there  were 
strangers  at  the  inn. 


24  Pilgrim  Stories 

It  seemed  very  hard  to  go  to  bed  at  the  usual 
time  when  there  were  knights  and  a  real  queen  in 
the  house.  They  were  sure  they  could  not  go  to 
sleep;  but  when  Mistress  Brewster  went  to  their 
beds  half  an  hour  later,  all  three  were  in  a  dream 
land  of  kings  and  queens,  knights  and  ladies, 
castles  and  deep  forests. 

Patience  wakened  very  early  the  next  morning. 
She  dressed  quickly  and  went  down  to  the  garden 
to  gather  fresh  flowers  for  the  breakfast  table. 
Yet,  early  as  she  was,  some  one  was  there  before 
her.  A  lady  was  bending  over  a  bush  of  beautiful 
roses;  when  she  turned,  Patience  saw  it  was 
the  queen. 

The  child  bowed  in  the  quaint,  pretty  way  her 
mother  had  taught  her.  She  was  wrondering 
whether  she  ought  to  go  back  into  the  house, 
when  the  lady  smiled  and  said: 

"I  am  admiring  your  roses.  How  fresh  and 
pretty  they  are  with  the  dew  still  on  them!" 

"This  bush  is  my  very  own,"  said  Patience,  as 
she  gathered  some  blossoms  for  the  lady.  "I 
call  these  the  Bradford  roses  because  William 
Bradford  gave  the  bush  to  me." 

"And  who  is  William  Bradford?" 

"Oh,  he  is  a  young  friend  of  father's.  He  does 
not  live  in  Scrooby,  but  he  comes  here  to  church 
every  Sunday,  and  so  do  Master  Chilton  and  his 
family  and  ever  so  many  others.  We  have  a  large 


A  Royal  Guest  25 

chapel  in  our  house  right  over  the  dining  room. 
Nearly  every  one  in  Scrooby  comes  here  to  church, 
and  some  people  come  as  far  as  twenty  miles." 


"She  gathered  some  blossoms  for  the  lady" 

"I  noticed  a  beautiful  church  as  we  rode 
through  the  village  yesterday,"  the  lady  said. 
"I  should  think  you  would  all  go  there." 


26  Pilgrim  Stories 

"That  is  King  James's  church,"  answered 
Patience.  "If  we  go  there  we  have  to  worship 
just  as  he  wishes  us  to.  Father  thinks  the  king's 
way  is  not  right.  Almost  every  one  about  here 
says  the  king's  way  is  not  right,  so  we  do  not  go 
to  his  church." 

"King  James  would  not  like  to  hear  that,"  said 
the  queen,  gently,  "and  it  would  not  be  safe 
for  you  to  talk  to  every  stranger  so  freely." 

Poor  little  Patience!  What  had  she  said! 
Suddenly  she  remembered  that  she  had  been  tell 
ing  a  very  great  secret.  Her  face  turned  as  red 
as  the  roses  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Never  mind,  little  one,"  said  the  queen,  kindly. 
"Your  secret  is  safe  with  me.  Let  us  forget  all 
about  it." 

Then  she  talked  to  the  child  about  the  flowers, 
and  Patience  took  her  to  see  the  lilies  which  grew 
in  one  of  the  ponds  in  the  garden. 

An  hour  later  three  children  stood  at  the  gate  of 
Scrooby  Inn,  watching  a  gilded  coach  and  a  com 
pany  of  horsemen  disappear  down  the  road. 

Soon  the  coach  was  gone  and  the  last  glistening 
spear  was  lost  to  sight.  Although  she  never  saw 
her  again,  Patience  always  remembered  the 
beautiful  queen  who  shared  their  secret. 


MEETING  IN  SECRET 

FOR  a  time  all  went  well,  but  after  a  few 
months  King  James  was  told  that  the  people 
of  Scrooby  were  not  going  to  Scrooby 
church.  Everybody  knew  they  were  men  and 
women  who  worshiped  God,  so  they  must  have 
meetings  somewhere. 

One  Sabbath  morning  two  strangers  came  to 
Scrooby.  As  they  walked  through  the  street  they 
noticed  a  number  of  people  going  into  William 
Brewster's  house. 

"I  believe  they  are  going  there  to  worship," 
said  one  of  the  men. 

"I  think  so,  too,  but  we  will  wait  until  we  are 
sure,"  answered  the  other. 

Far  dowrn  the  road  they  saw  a  carriage  coming, 
so  they  stepped  behind  a  wall.  The  carriage  came 
slowly  on  and  turned  in  at  Brewster's  gate.  In 
it  were  John  Robinson  and  his  family.  The  men 
knew  this  man  was  a  pastor  from  the  way  he 
was  dressed,  and  so  knew  that  they  had  found 
the  place  where  the  people  were  at  worship. 

A  little  later  they  went  into  the  house  and  up 
the  stairs.  There  in  the  chapel  they  found  John 
Robinson  preaching  to  his  people. 

The  strangers  handed  him  a  message  from  the 
king  and  left  the  room. 

27 


28  Pilgrim  Stories 

After  Master  Robinson  had  finished  speaking, 
he  read  the  message.  Even  the  little  children 
felt  that  this  letter  meant  trouble  for  those  who 
had  come  there  to  worship  God. 

"My  friends,"  said  their  pastor,  "King  James 
has  ordered  us  to  go  to  his  church  and  worship 
according  to  the  laws  of  England,  or  not  worship 
at  all.  He  says  if  we  do  not  obey  him  we  shall 
be  punished." 

What  could  the  good  men  and  women  do? 
They  did  not  believe  as  the  king  did,  and  thought 
it  was  not  right  for  them  to  go  to  his  church. 
They  would  not  do  what  they  believed  to  be  wrong. 

For  several  minutes  all  were  silent.  Then 
William  Bradford  spoke. 

"This  house  will  be  watched  every  Sabbath," 
he  said.  "This  large,  pleasant  room  has  been  our 
church  home  for  a  long  time,  but  it  will  not  be 
safe  to  meet  here  any  more." 

After  talking  for  a  while  about  the  best  thing 
to  be  done,  the  pastor  prayed  that  God  would 
help  and  protect  them,  and  all  went  sadly  home. 

After  some  time  King  James  heard  that  the 
people  were  not  yet  going  to  the  village  church, 
and  again  he  sent  his  men  to  Scrooby. 

"Watch  William  Brewster's  house  and  take 
every  man  who  goes  there  on  Sunday,"  he  said. 

The  next  Sunday  two  soldiers  watched  that 
house.  They  watched  the  front  door  and  the 


Meeting  in  Secret  29 

back  door,  but  not  a  person  did  they  see.  Had 
the  people  obeyed  the  king  and  gone  to  the  old 
church  ?  No,  indeed !  The  soldiers  were  watching 
the  wrong  house.  If  they  had  been  at  the  other 
end  of  the  village  they  might  have  seen  where  the 
people  went  to  worship  that  morning. 

The  next  Sunday  the  worshipers  met  at 
Doctor  Fuller's  and  the  week  after  that  at  Master 
Allerton's.  Each  Sabbath  they  met  in  a  different 
house,  and  each  Sabbath  the  soldiers  tried  to  find 
them.  At  last  they  met  only  at  night,  when  it 
was  harder  for  the  soldiers  to  see  where  they  went. 

William  Brewster  was  an  elder  in  John 
Robinson's  church.  The  pastor  did  not  live  in 
Scrooby,  and  sometimes  he  was  not  able  to  go  to 
meeting.  Then  Elder  Brewster  led  the  service. 

One  very  dark  winter  night  they  again  met  at 
Elder  Brewster's  house.  The  last  persons  to  come 
were  Master  Chilton  and  his  little  daughter. 
Mary's  face  was  pale,  and  her  hands  trembled  as 
she  tried  to  untie  her  hood. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mary?"  asked  Mistress 
Brewster,  helping  her  to  take  off  her  wraps.  "Are 
you  so  cold?" 

"I  have  had  such  a  fright!"  said  the  child. 
"There  are  two  soldiers  at  your  gate,  Mistress 
Brewster.  Father  and  I  did  not  see  them  until 
we  were  almost  at  the  bridge.  We  did  not  look 
toward  the  house  but  walked  right  by,  as  though 


jo  Pilgrim  Stories 

we  were  not  coming  here.  When  we  were  sure 
they  were  not  following  us,  we  went  around  and 
came  in  by  the  stable  gate." 

Elder  Brewster  looked  out  of  the  window. 
Yes,  there  were  two  men  walking  up  and  down  in 
front  of  the  house. 


"  'What  is  the  matter,  Mary?'  asked 
Mistress  Brewster" 

'  Brewster's  house  is  dark  and  still.  There  is 
no  one  there,"  said  one.  "They  are  obeying  the 
king  very  well." 

"No  doubt  they  are  all  asleep,  as  we  ought  to 
be.  I  am  stiff  with  cold,"  answered  the  other, 


Meeting  in  Secret  37 

as  they  walked  away.  They  would  have  been 
much  surprised  if  they  had  seen  the  little  group 
on  their  knees  in  the  dark  chapel  upstairs. 

When  the  meeting  was  over  they  did  not  all  go 
home  at  once.  The  soldiers  would  notice  so  many 
people  together  and  know  they  had  been  to  some 
place  to  worship. 

Still  King  James  did  not  believe  the  people  were 
obeying  him.  He  thought  if  these  soldiers  could 
not  find  where  the  meetings  were  held,  he  would 
send  some  who  could. 


FOR  CONSCIENCE'    SAKE 

UP  in  the  loft  of  a  large  barn,  John  Robinson 
was  teaching  his  people.  He  held  his 
Bible  in  his  hand,  but  he  could  not  see 
to  read  it,  for  only  the  pale  moon  lighted  the 
loft.  They  knew  many  chapters  of  the  Bible, 
however,  and  repeated  one  softly. 

Suddenly  they  heard  voices  outside.  "I  saw 
two  men  go  into  this  barn,"  said  one  soldier. 

"Arid  I  saw  a  woman  and  two  children,"  said 
another.  "I  believe  they  are  meeting  for  worship. 
Let  us  find  out.  Come,  men." 

Up  in  the  loft  the  people  heard  and  trembled. 
The  men  tried  to  hide  the  women  and  children  in 
safe  places,  then  turned  to  face  the  soldiers. 

Up  the  old  stairs  they  came.  "We  have  found 
you  at  last,"  they  cried.  "Come  with  us." 

So  the  men  were  taken  away  to  prison  and  their 
families  returned  to  their  lonely  homes.  After  a 
few  weeks  the  prisoners  were  set  free;  but  still 
they  would  not  attend  the  king's  church. 

Many  times  they  were  put  in  prison,  and  some 
of  their  homes  were  burned.  They  were  very, 
very  unhappy 

One  day  the  men  of  the  little  church  met  to 
talk  about  their  troubles  and  plan  some  way  to 
help  matters. 

32 


For  Conscience'  Sake  33 

"It  will  never  be  safe  to  worship  God  in  our  own 
way  here.  Even  now  three  of  our  friends  are  in 
prison,  and  the  rest  of  us  may  be  there  by  night," 
said  one. 

"I  fear  we  must  leave  England,"  said  their 
pastor,  "yet  I  do  not  know  where  we  could  go  to 
be  free.  We  should  be  in  just  as  great  danger  in 
many  other  countries." 

"You  know  I  spent  several  years  in  Holland, 
when  I  was  a  young  man,"  said  Elder  Brewster. 
"There  every  one  is  free  to  worship  as  he  likes,  and 
so  many  people  come  from  France,  England,  and 
Spain.  The  Dutch  are  glad  to  have  honest  people 
from  any  land  make  homes  in  their  country." 

Then  he  told  them  about  the  fine  free  schools  in 
Holland,  where  they  could  send  their  children; 
and  about  the  fishing  fleets,  the  beautiful  cities, 
and  the  great  silk  and  woolen  mills  where  they 
could  all  find  work. 

Holland  was  not  very  far  from  England,  so  it 
would  not  cost  as  much  to  go  there  as  to  some 
other  places.  After  thinking  about  it  for  some 
time,  it  was  decided  that  all  who  could  would  go 
to  Holland  in  the  autumn. 

All  summer  they  quietly  planned  how  to  leave 
England.  They  dared  not  speak  of  it  openly  for 
fear  the  king's  men  might  hear  and  put  them  in 
prison  again,  for  King  James  was  not  willing  they 
should  find  homes  in  another  country. 


34  Pilgrim  Stories 

When  autumn  came,  the  crops  had  been  gath 
ered  and  sold.  The  men  had  sold  their  horses 
and  cattle,  their  homes  and  nearly  all  of  their 
furniture.  Their  clothing  and  a  few  other  things 
were  packed  in  boxes,  and  at  last  they  were  ready 
to  start  on  their  journey. 

It  made  them  very  sad  to  leave  England. 
They  loved  their  country.  They  loved  their 
green  fields  and  pleasant  village  and  the  homes 
where  they  had  once  been  so  happy. 

"We  are  Pilgrims  now,"  they  said,  "and  we 
will  wander  on  until  we  find  a  home  where  we  can 
be  free  and  happy." 


PILGRIMS 

THE  next  night  the  stars  looked  down  upon  a 
strange  sight.    On  the  shore  of  the  sea  near 
a  large  city,  a  group  of  Pilgrims  waited  for 
the  ship  which  was  to  carry  them  to  Holland. 

It  grew  very  late.     One  by  one  the  lights  of  the 
city  went  out,  and  all  was  dark  and  still.     Even 


"On  a  wooden  box  sat  a  mother  with  her  baby 
asleep  in  her  arms" 

the  little  waves  seemed  to  speak  in  whispers  as 
they  crept  up  to  the  shore. 

On  a  wooden  box  sat  a  mother  with  her  baby 
asleep  in  her  arms.  Two  tired  little  children, 
with  the  warm  sand  for  a  bed  and  a  blanket  for 

35 


36  Pilgrim  Stories 

a  pillow,  slept  beside  her.  Some  of  the  older  chil 
dren  were  too  excited  to  sleep.  They  amused 
themselves  by  throwing  pebbles  into  the  water 
or  playing  in  the  sand. 

Others  of  the  company  sat  on  boxes  or  on  the 
sand,  talking  in  low  tones.  They  did  not  speak 
about  the  homes  and  friends  they  were  leaving; 
that  would  make  them  too  sad.  They  talked  of 
the  better  times  they  would  have  in  the  new  home. 

One  by  one  the  children  fell  asleep,  some  on  the 
warm  sand,  others  pillowed  in  their  mothers'  arms. 

As  the  night  wore  on  the  men  paced  anxiously 
up  and  down  the  shore.  They  peered  out  over 
the  black  water  hoping  to  see  the  dark  form  of  the 
vessel  which  was  to  take  them  to  Holland. 

At  any  time  the  soldiers  might  be  upon  them. 
Every  minute  they  waited  on  the  shore  added  to 
their  peril. 

Watchmen  were  placed  at  points  along  the  shore 
to  warn  the  Pilgrims  of  any  approaching  danger. 

A  terrible  dread  was  sinking  into  their  hearts. 
What  if  the  ship  should  not  come  at  all?  What 
if  the  soldiers  should  suddenly  swoop  down  upon 
them?  But  these  thoughts  they  would  not  speak 
aloud.  They  tried  to  cheer  each  other  with 
encouraging  words. 

From  a  distant  clock  tower  the  bells  chimed 
three.  The  Pilgrims  drew  closer  together  and 
spoke  in  hushed  voices. 


Pilgrims  37 

"Are  you  quite  sure  this  is  the  place  where  the 
captain  of  the  ship  promised  to  meet  us?"  asked 
William  Bradford. 

"This  is  the  very  spot,  just  where  this  little 
brook  flows  into  the  sea, "  answered  Elder  Brewster. 

"It  will  soon  be  dawn,"  said  John  Robinson. 
"I  fear  daylight  will  find  us  still  waiting  here  for 
the  ship." 

"That  must  not  be,"  replied  Elder  Brewster, 
"for  the  soldiers  would  soon  be  upon  us.  If  the 
ship  does  not  come  within  an  hour  we  must 
seek  the  homes  of  our  friends.  Hark!  What  is 
that?  I  thought  I  heard  the  splash  of  oars." 

In  silence  they  listened,  straining  their  ears  to 
catch  the  sound.  Again  they  heard  it,  and  their 
hearts  leaped  with  hope  and  thankfulness. 

A  moment  later  a  boat  rowed  by  two  men  was 
seen  approaching  the  shore.  Quickly  and  q.uietly 
the  boat  was  loaded  and  rowed  back  to  the  ship, 
which  lay  out  in  the  deep  wrater.  Then  it  returned 
for  another  load,  and  another,  until  all  the  people 
and  their  goods  had  been  carried  to  the  ship. 

"Now,  Captain,  let  us  set  sail  at  once,  and  by 
daylight  we  shall  be  safe  out  of  the  king's  reach," 
said  Elder  Brewster. 

"Oh,  do  not  be  too  sure  of  that,"  said  a  stern 
voice  by  his  side.  In  a  moment  the  Pilgrims  found 
themselves  surrounded  by  soldiers. 

"What  does  this  mean,  Captain?"  cried  Elder 

78290 


j#  Pilgrim  Stories 

Brewster.  But  the  captain  was  nowhere  to 
be  seen.  He  was  ashamed  of  his  wicked  deed, 
and  dared  not  face  the  men  whom  he  had  betrayed 
into  the  hands  of  the  soldiers. 

It  was  of  no  use  to  resist  the  king's  men,  so  when 
the  first  gray  light  of  morning  came,  the  Pilgrims 
again  stood  on  the  shore. 

Last  night  the  stars  had  twinkled  merrily  when 
they  saw  the  Pilgrims  about  to  escape  King  James. 
Now  they  saw  them  with  their  burdens  on  their 
backs,  and  their  children  in  their  arms,  going 
toward  the  great,  black  prison.  The  little  stars 
still  twinkled  faintly  but  seemed  to  say,  "Be 
brave!  The  One  who  made  us  and  made  you  is 
stronger  than  King  James."  Then  one  by  one 
they  closed  their  eyes,  as  if  unwilling  to  see  the 
prison  doors  close  upon  women  and  babies. 

In  a  few  days  the  doors  of  the  prison  opened 
again,  and  the  women  with  their  children  passed 
out.  I  think  they  were  not  so  very  glad  to  be 
free,  for  their  husbands  were  still  in  prison  and 
they  had  no  homes  to  which  they  might  go. 
Some  had  friends  there  in  the  city  who  gladly 
welcomed  them.  Others  returned  to  Scrooby, 
where  they  lived  with  friends  and  neighbors.  It 
was  several  months  before  all  the  men  were 
allowed  to  return  to  their  families. 

Because  he  had  hired  the  ship  and  made  most  of 
the  plans  for  leaving  England,  Elder  Brewster 


Pilgrims  39 

• 

was  the  last  to  leave  the  prison.  He  soon  found 
Mistress  Brewster  and  the  children  in  the  old  house 
which  had  always  been  their  home.  Another  man 
kept  the  inn  now,  but  he  and  his  wife  were  kind- 
hearted  people  and  had  gladly  opened  their  house 
to  these  homeless  ones. 

"Jonathan  seems  two  years  older  than  he  did 
last  fall,"  said  his  father  that  night,  after  the 
children  had  gone  to  bed. 

"Yes,  Jonathan  is  quite  a  man  for  his  thirteen 
years.  He  helps  care  for  the  horses  and  does  many 
errands  for  the  innkeeper.  The  girls,  too,  help 
about  the  house,  that  they  may  not  be  a  burden  to 
these  kind  people." 

"To-morrow  we  will  look  for  a  little  home  of  our 
own,  where  we  can  be  comfortable  until  spring." 
said  Elder  Brewster. 

"And  what  shall  we  do  in  the  spring?"  asked 
Mistress  Brewster. 

"Go  to  Holland!"  answered  her  husband. 


AWAY  TO  HOLLAND 

"1  "X  7 HEN    spring   came,    the    Pilgrims    again 

V  V  planned  to  leave  England.     Elder  Brewster 

knew  a  Hollander  who  had  a  ship  of  his 

own.     So  he  arranged  with  this  Dutch  captain 

to  carry  the  Pilgrims  to  Holland. 

They  now  went  to  a  lonely  place  on  the  shore, 
far  from  any  town  where  they  thought  they  would 
be  safer.  All  day  they  waited  for  the  ship,  fearing 
every  minute  to  be  taken  by  the  king's  men. 

At  last,  late  in  the  afternoon,  a  sail  appeared. 
When  the  ship  had  come  as  close  to  the  shore  as  it 
could,  it  anchored  and  waited  for  the  people  to 
row  out  to  it.  The  Pilgrims  had  a  large  boat  of 
their  own  in  which  they  had  brought  their  goods 
down  the  river  to  the  sea. 

It  was  agreed  that  most  of  the  men  should  go 
first  and  load  the  heavy  boxes  upon  the  ship,  then 
two  come  back  for  those  left  on  shore.  The  boat 
had  started  toward  the  shore  for  its  second  load 
when  the  ship's  captain  saw  something  which  filled 
his  heart  with  terror.  A  long  black  line  was  curving 
down  the  hill.  He  raised  his  glass  to  his  eyes. 
"Soldiers  and  horsemen!  Look,  men!"  he  cried. 

One  glance  told  them  that  the  soldiers  were 
marching  straight  toward  the  place  where  the 
Pilgrims  were  waiting. 

40 


"Quick!  Lower  another  boat!"  cried  William 
Bradford.  "We  can  row  to  the  shore  and  get  the 
others  before  the  soldiers  reach  them." 

But  already  the  sailors  were  lifting  the  anchor. 
The  wind  filled  the  sails  and  the  ship  began  to 
move. 

"Let  us  off,"  cried  the  men.  ''If  you  are  afraid 
to  wait  for  the  others,  at  least  let  us  go  back  to 
our  families." 

"The  soldiers  will  capture  my  ship,"  answered 
the  captain.  "My  ship  is  all  I  have  in  the  world. 
They  shall  not  have  it." 

"They  do  not  want  your  ship,  and  they  could 
not  reach  it  if  they  did.  They  only  want  us.  Let 
us  go!" 

But  the  frightened  man  would  not  listen  to  them. 
He  had  heard  of  many  captains  who  had  lost  their 
ships  through  helping  people  escape  from  England, 
and  he  would  not  stop  a  moment.  The  ship 
sailed  out  into  the  sea,  and  the  darkness  soon  hid 
the  shore  from  the  sight  of  those  on  deck. 

That  night  a  great  storm  arose.  The  little  ship 
was  tossed  about  like  a  chip  upon  the  waves.  Not 
a  star  was  to  be  seen  in  the  black  sky  to  guide  the 
pilot.  No  friendly  lighthouse  sent  out  its  rays  to 
show  them  where  to  go. 

For  more  than  a  week  the  ship  was  driven  before 
the  wind,  they  knew  not  where.  When  the  storm 
was  over,  the  sailors  found  they  had  been  going 


42  Pilgrim  Stories 

away  from  Holland  instead  of  toward  it.  They 
were  hundreds  of  miles  out  of  their  course. 

"If  we  have  a  good  wind  and  fair  weather  we 
shall  reach  port  in  a  few  days,"  said  the  captain, 
when  the  ship  had  been  turned  and  headed  for 
Holland. 

But  they  did  not  have  a  good  wind  and  fair 
weather.  That  very  night  a  heavy  fog  settled 
down  upon  the  sea.  They  could  not  see  ten  feet 
from  the  ship.  Two  days  later  another  storm 
came  up,  much  worse  than  the  first  one. 

Surely  the  little  vessel  could  not  brave  this 
storm.  One  of  the  masts  was  gone,  and  the  water 
poured  in  through  a  hole  in  the  side  of  the  boat. 
Worst  of  all,  the  food  and  fresh  water  were  almost 
gone.  None  on  board  expected  ever  to  see  land 
again. 

The  captain  thought  God  was  punishing  him  for 
his  cowardly  act  in  leaving  the  helpless  women  to 
the  soldiers.  The  sailors  all  joined  the  Pilgrims 
in  their  prayers  for  help  and  pardon. 

At  last  the  clouds  broke,  and  bits  of  blue  sky 
peeped  forth.  Soon  the  wind  went  down,  and  the 
waves,  too,  slowly  grew  quiet.  With  the  sun  to 
guide  them  by  day,  and  the  stars  by  night,  the 
ship  finally  reached  the  city  of  Amsterdam  in 
Holland. 

But  what  had  become  of  the  Pilgrims  who  had 
been  left  on  the  shore? 


Away  to  Holland  43 

When  the  soldiers  came  up  they  found  only  a 
group  of  very  miserable  women,  frightened  chil 
dren,  and  two  or  three  men.  They  saw  the  ship 
sailing  out  to  sea  and  knew  they  were  too  late  to 
take  those  they  most  wanted. 

What  should  they  do?  It  seemed  a  shame  to 
imprison  women  and  children  who  had  done  no  one 
any  harm.  But  they  had  their  orders,  and  there 
was  nothing  to  do  but  obey. 

So  the  Pilgrims  were  placed  in  their  boat  and 
rowed  to  the  city.  It  was  a  long  tiresome  ride, 
and  before  they  reached  the  landing  the  night 
had  "grown  quite  dark,  and  most  of  the  children 
were  fast  asleep. 

When  the  lights  of  the  city  were  seen,  one  big 
soldier  thought  of  his  wife  and  babies  there,  safe 
at  home.  Then  he  looked  at  his  prisoners,  a  few 
tearful  women  and  some  tired,  sleeping  children. 
He  did  not  feel  very  brave.  Risking  his  life  in 
battle  were  more  pleasant  than  this. 

The  other  soldiers  seemed  to  feel  much  as  he 
did,  for  when  the  shore  was  reached,  they  gently 
helped  their  prisoners  from  the  boat.  Then  each 
took  a  sleeping  child  in  his  arms  and  soon  all 
disappeared  down  the  dark  street. 

The  Pilgrims  were  not  kept  in  prison  long  this 
time.  A  few  days  later  they  returned  to  the  homes 
of  their  friends.  The  judges  were  tired  of  them. 
The  king,  too,  was  tired  of  the  trouble. 


44  Pilgrim  Stories 

"Since  their  husbands  have  gone,  let  the  women 
go  to  them.  I  am  tired  of  hearing  about  it,"  said 
King  James. 

But  few  of  them  had  money  to  go  then,  and  it 
was  many  months  before  the  men  in  Holland  could 
earn  money  enough  to  send  for  their  families. 


IN  HOLLAND 

AT  last  the  ship  bearing  the  rest  of  the  Pilgrims 
reached  Holland.  The  captain  had  told  them 
that  soon  they  would  land  in  Amsterdam. 
All  were  upon  the  deck  eager  to  catch  the  first 
glimpse  of  the  city  which  was  to  be  their  home. 

"If  it  were  not  for  this  fog,  I  think  you  could 
see  the  city  now,"  said  one  of  the  sailors  to  the 
group  of  children  at  the  bow. 

They  peered  into  the  mist,  but  not  a  sign  of  the 
city  could  they  see.  Above,  a  ball  of  soft,  yellow 
light  showed  where  the  sun  was  trying  to  shine 
through  the  haze.  Sometimes  a  great,  shadowy 
sail  floated  toward  them  out  of  the  mist.  Many 
little  fishing  boats  passed  quite  close  to  the  ship. 

In  one  of  these  a  little  boy  sat  on  the  big  brown 
net  piled  up  in  one  end  of  the  boat.  He  looked  up 
and  saw  the  children  on  the  ship  high  above  him, 
and  waved  his  hand.  Of  course,  the  children 
waved  to  him,  and,  of  course,  when  their  ship  had 
passed  the  little  fishing  boat,  they  ran  to  the  other 
end  of  the  deck  and  waved  again.  They  waved 
until  boy,  net,  and  boat  were  all  lost  in  the  fog. 

Then  the  children  turned  again  to  watch  for  the 
city. 

"Oh!  Oh!"  cried  Jonathan  Brewster. 

"O-o-o-o-oh!"  echoed  a  dozen  others. 

45 


"From  this  high  road  the  Pilgrims  .  .  .  ccw/c?  s£e  beautiful 
churches,  large  shops,  and  narrow  streets" 


In  Holland  47 

What  was  it  they  saw?  Out  01  the  mist  rose 
high,  shining  towers,  golden  church  spires,  and  tall 
pointed  roofs  with  wonderful  chimneys.  For  a 
minute  all  were  speechless. 

"The  city  looks  as  though  it  were  floating  right 
on  the  water,"  said  Mary  Chilton,  when  she  had 
found  her  voice. 

"It  is,  almost,"  answered  her  mother.  "I  am 
told  there  is  water  all  around  it,  and  through  it. 
In  many  of  the  streets  are  waterways  where  boats 
pass  to  and  fro  between  the  houses." 

"How  beautiful  it  is!"  said  Mistress  Brewster, 
who  had  just  come  upon  the  deck  with  baby  Love 
in  her  arms.  "I  am  sure  we  shall  be  very  happy 
here.  See,  the  sun  is  coming  out  and  the  mist  is 
almost  gone." 

It  took  the  ship  a  long  time  to  make  its  way 
past  the  other  boats  in  the  harbor,  and  up  to  the 
landing.  On  the  shore  stood  a  number  of  English 
men  who  had  waited  hours  for  this  ship  to  arrive. 
Some  had  lived  in  Holland  several  years,  but  most 
of  them  were  Pilgrims  who  had  been  carried  away 
from  England  in  the  Dutch  ship. 

Mary  Chilton' s  eyes  moved  quickly  from  one 
to  another  of  the  men  on  the  shore.  She  was 
looking  for  a  beloved  face.  "There  he  is,  there!" 
she  cried.  "Mother,  mother,  there  is  father! 
He  does  not  see  us.  Wave  your  handkerchief!" 

The  Brewster  children  had  soon  picked  out  their 


48  Pilgrim  Stories 

young  friend  William  Bradford,  and  were  waving 
and  calling  to  him,  though  the  deep  shouts  of  the 
sailors  drowned  their  voices.  Nearly  every  one  had 
seen  some  dear  friend  in  the  group  on  the  shore. 

Would  the  ship  never  make  the  landing?  Hew 
very  slow  the  sailors  were! 

Most  of  the  men  had  prepared  little  homes  for 
their  families.  They  had  rented  small  houses  near 
together,  that  they  might  not  be  lonely  in  this 
strange  city. 

"I  have  taken  a  cottage  for  you  near  Master 
Robinson's,"  said  Bradford  to  Elder  Brewster, 
when  greetings  were  over.  "It  is  not  such  a  fine 
large  house  as  your  home  in  Scrooby,  but  it  i? 
comfortable." 

"You  are  very  kind,"  answered  the  older  man. 
"We  do  not  need  a  large  house.  If  it  will  shelter 
you  and  us,  it  is  large  enough." 

"Yes,"  said  Mistress  Brewster,  "we  want  you 
to  make  our  house  your  home  until  you  have 
one  of  your  own." 

Bradford  thanked  his  friends,  then,  taking  little 
Fear  in  his  strong  arms,  he  led  the  way. 

Before  them  was  what  looked  to  be  a  long  hill, 
very  flat  on  top.  There  were  stairs  up  the  side, 
and  when  these  had  been  climbed,  the  Pilgrims 
found  themselves  on  a  wide,  smooth  road.  They 
were  as  high  as  the  tree  tops  and  could  look  down 
upon  the  shining  red  roofs  of  the  houses. 


49 


On  many  of  the  chimneys  were  great  nests  of 
sticks  and  straw.  In  some  of  them  the  Pilgrims 
saw  young  storks  with  their  hungry  mouths  wide 
open  for  the  frogs  or  little  fishes  their  mothers 
brought  them.  On  one  chimney  the  mother-bird 
sat  on  the  nest  and  the  father  stood  on  one  leg 
beside  her,  guarding  his  home.  He  must  have 
known  there  was  no  danger,  for  he  seemed  to  be 
fast  asleep. 


"In  every  direction  they  saw  great  windmills" 

From  this  high  road  the  Pilgrims  looked  over 
the  cottages  into  the  pretty  gardens  behind  them. 
They  could  see  beautiful  churches,  large  shops, 
and  narrow  streets. 

In  every  direction  they  saw  great  windmills  with 
four  long  arms  stretched  out  to 'catch  the  breeze. 
They  were  taller  than  the  highest  houses,  and  one 
might  fancy  them  to  be  giant  watchmen  guarding 
the  city. 


50  Pilgrim  Stones 

Beyond  the  town  were  a  river  and  a  large  lake, 
and  in  the  city  itself  were  scores  of  little  streams 
running  in  every  direction.  How  strange  it 
looked  to  see  hundreds  of  masts  and  sails  scattered 
about  among  the  trees  and  houses! 

On  the  other  side  of  the  road  was  the  sea  with 
the  shining  sails  of  many  ships.  How  broad  and 
smooth  the  water  looked ! 

"Is  this  a  hill,  or  did  the  people  build  this  high 
street?"  asked  one  of  the  boys. 

"This  is  a  dike,"  answered  Bradford.  "Holland 
is  a  very  low  country.  In  many  places  it  is  lower 
than  the  sea,  so  the  people  have  built  these  strong 
walls  of  earth  and  stone  to  keep  the  water  from 
overflowing  the  land." 

"When  the  hard  storms  come,  will  they  not  push 
the  dike  over?"  asked  Patience. 

"No,  they  cannot  do  that,  because  the  wall  is 
so  much  wider  at  the  bottom  than  at  the  top ;  but 
the  waves  often  dash  high  against  the  dike.  They 
seem  to  try  to  get  through  the  wall.  The  wind 
helps  them,  but  the  dike  is  too  strong. 

"Yet  sometimes  the  water  does  make  its  way 
through  the  wall.  At  first  only  a  tiny  stream  of 
water  is  seen  trickling  down  the  side  of  the  dike. 
If  this  leak  were  not  mended  at  once,  the  stream 
would  soon  grow  larger  and  larger  until  nothing 
could  stop  it.  The  land  would  be  flooded  and 
many  people  lost. 


In  Holland  51 

"Every  day  and  every  night  watchmen  go  up 
and  down  looking  for  a  leak  in  the  wall.  When 
they  find  one,  they  ring  a  large  bell,  and  all  who 
hear  it  run  to  the  dike  to  help  stop  the  leak.  They 
know  there  is  not  a  moment  to  be  lost  if  they 
would  save  their  homes.  Their  swift  fingers 
weave  mats  of  straw  which  they  crowd  into  the 
hole.  Then,  with  earth  and  stone,  the  wall  is 
made  as  strong  as  before.  Even  the  little  children 
are  taught  to  watch  for  .a  leak  in  the  dike." 

Then  he  told  them  how  a  whole  city  was  once 
saved  by  one  brave  little  Hollander  who  held  back 
the  water  by  filling  a  tiny  leak  with  his  small  hand.* 

*Read  to  children  Miss  Gary's  poem,  "A  Leak  in  the  Dike." 


THE  HOME  IN  AMSTERDAM 

THE  Pilgrims  soon  found  the  street  where  their 
new  homes  were.  But  how  different  it  was 
from  the  streets  of  Scrooby! 

Down  the  middle  of  it  was  a  broad  stream  of 
water  called  a  canal.  On  each  side  of  the  canal 
was  a  narrow  road  paved  with  stones.  The  roads 
were  not  wide  enough  for  a  horse  and  wagon. 
When  the  people  wished  to  ride,  or  had  heavy 
loads  to  carry,  they  used  a  boat  on  the  canal. 

The  houses  looked  more  odd  than  the  street. 
They  were  made  of  brick  of  every  shade  of  red, 
and  pink,  and  yellow.  They  stood  close  to  the 
street  and  quite  near  together.  But  strangest  of 
all,  many  of  them  did  not  stand  straight. 

This  is  because  they  were  not  built  upon  walls 
of  stone,  as  ours  are.  These  houses  were  built 
upon  great  posts  driven  deep  into  the  earth.  In 
Holland  the  ground  is  often  soft  and  wet.  The 
weight  of  the  house  often  makes  the  posts  sink  in 
deeper  on  one  side  than  the  other,  and  then  the 
house  leans  to  one  side. 

When  William  Bradford  reached  the  house  he 
had  taken  for  his  friends,  he  unlocked  the  front 
door  with  a  huge  brass  key.  Then  the  Brewsters 
stepped  into — the  hall  or  the  parlor  do  you  sup 
pose  ?  No,  they  were  in  the  kitchen,  for  that  is  the 

52 


The  Home  in  Amsterdam  53 

front  room  in  a  Dutch  house.  The  sitting  room 
looks  out  on  the  pretty  garden  behind  the  house. 

But  the  kitchen  is  often  the  dining  room  and 
sitting  room  too.  At  night  it  is  very  likely  to  be 
a  bedroom  as  well,  though  you  would  never  think 
it  until  you  saw  the  queer  box-like  bed  drawn  from 
its  hiding  place  in  the  wall. 

In  this  kitchen  the  floor  was  made  of  tiles. 
There  were  fresh,  white  curtains  in  the  little  win 
dows,  and  a  row  of  blossoming  plants  on  one  of  the 
window  sills.  A  long  shelf  held  a  row  of  plates,  a 
blue  and  white  water  pitcher  and  two  tall  candles. 

There  was  the  queerest  little  fireplace  in  the 
room.  It  looked  like  a  great  brass  pan  filled  with 
hot  coals.  A  long  chain  from  the  shelf  above  it 
held  a  shining  copper  kettle.  How  it  boiled,  and 
bubbled  making  its  bright  little  lid  dance  merrily ! 

"That  is  hodgepodge  for  our  supper,"  said 
Bradford,  peeping  into  the  kettle. 

"What  is  hodgepodge?     I  hope  it  tastes  as  good 

as  it  smells." 

« 

"Indeed  it  does,  Jonathan.  It  is  the  best  stew 
of  meat  and  vegetables  you  ever  tasted.  Our 
neighbor,  Mevrow  van  Zant,  taught  me  how  to 
make  it  Here  are  some  little  seedcakes  she  gave 
me  for  you  children.  Our  Dutch  neighbors  are 
very  kind.  They  have  done  much  to  help  us 
make  the  homes  ready  for  our  friends." 

When  bedtime  came,  Mistress  Brewster  took 


54 


Pilgrim  Stories 


Fear  and  Patience  upstairs  to  their  own  little 
room.  In  the  corner  was  a  large  bed  quite  hidden 
behind  long  curtains  which  reached  from  ceiling 
to  floor.  When  Patience  pulled  back  the  curtains 
and  saw  the  high  feather  bed  she  thought  she 
would  need  a  little  ladder  to  get  into  it. 


Patience  thought  she  would  need  a  little  ladder 
to  get  into  this  bed 


The  Home  in  Amsterdam  55 

As  their  mother  tucked  the  children  in  and  kissed 
them  good  night,  Patience  whispered,  "Isn't  this 
just  like  a  dream!  I  fear  when  I  waken  in  the 
morning  this  queer  little  house  will  be  gone,  the 
windmills  and  canals,  the  boats,  the  storks,  and 
the  dikes  will  all  be  gone,  and  we  shall  be  in 
England  again." 


ON  THE  CANAL 

NEXT  morning,  the  pretty  blue  and  white 
dishes  washed,   the  kettles  scoured,  and 
fresh  white  sand  sprinkled  on  the  kitchen 
floor,  Patience  took  baby  Love  and  went  out  on 
the  doorstep  to  watch  the  boats  on  the  canal. 

There  were  many  of  these  boats  passing  to  and 
fro.  Some  carried  fuel  or  grain.  Some  carried 
fish,  and  others  were  loaded  with  boxes  of  goods 
from  the  mills.  Some  were  passenger  boats  and 
carried  people  from  one  town  to  another. 

Soon  Jonathan  came  out  with  a  large  stone  jar, 
which  he  set  upon  the  wall  of  the  canal.  On  the 
next  doorstep  sat  Mary  and  Remember  Allerton, 
and  they,  too,  had  a  large  jar.  There  was  one  at 
Mistress  Chilton's  door,  and  all  up  and  down  the 
street  might  be  seen  these  brown  jars. 

What  were  they  for?  Water,  to  be  sure!  These 
children  were  waiting  for  the  water  barge  to  come 
along  and  fill  their  jars.  This  seems  strange  in  a 
land  where  there  is  more  water  than  anything  else. 
But  the  water  in  the  canals  is  not  fit  to  drink,  so 
the  people  must  buy  fresh  water  every  day.  This 
is  brought  from  the  river  far  beyond  the  city. 

While  the  children  waited  for  the  water  barge, 
they  saw  a  large  boat  coming  down  the  canal. 
There  was  no  wind,  so  the  sail  was  down.  At 

56 


On  the  Canal  57 

first  they  could  not  see  what  made  it  glide  along 
so  easily.  As  it  came  nearer  they  saw  that  there 
was  a  long  rope  tied  to  the  bow,  and  the  boat  was 
being  drawn  by  a  large  dog  and  a  boy,  who  walked 
along  the  bank  of  the  canal. 

When  the  boat  was  in  front  of  Elder  Brewster's 
house,  it  stopped.  The  father  came  ashore  and 
tied  his  boat  to  a  strong  post,  and  then  went  back 
to  his  breakfast. 

This  was  not  served  in  the  neat  little  cabin  with 
the  white  curtains  at  the  windows.  The  breakfast 
table  was  spread  on  the  deck  of  the  boat.  There 
was  no  cloth,  but  the  table  was  scoured  as  white 
as  Katrina's  strong  little  arms  could  make  it. 

While  Katrina  and  her  mother  were  washing 
the  dishes,  the  water  barge  was  seen  coming  slowly 
down  the  canal,  stopping  at  each  house.  The 
mother  saw  the  little  barge,  and,  calling  her  son, 
said  something  to  him  which  the  little  Pilgrims 
could  not  understand. 

But  Jan  understood.  He  took  up  a  large,  shin 
ing  can  and  came  over  where  Jonathan  and 
Patience  were. 

"Good  morning,"  said  Jonathan,  "Are  you 
waiting  for  the  water  barge,  too?"  But  Jan  only 
smiled  and  said  nothing.  He  had  not  understood 
one  word. 

When  Mevrow  Vedder  came  up  in  her  flat  little 
boat,  with  its  rows  of  shining  brass  water  cans, 


Pilgrim  Stories 


"Mevrow  Vedder  .  .  .  in  her  flat  little  boat,  with  .  .  .  shining 
brass  water  cans" 

Jan  talked  fast  enough.  He  seemed  to  know 
Mevrow  Vedder,  and  Karl  and  Hans,  who  had 
come  with  their  mother  to  help  steer  the  boat. 

How  fast  they  all  talked,  and  how  strange  the 
language  sounded  to  the  English  children!  The 
Dutch  language  was  so  different  from  their  own. 
The  little  Pilgrims  thought  they  could  never  learn 
to  speak  or  understand  this  strange  tongue. 

But  they  did,  and  Jan  and  Katrina  were  their 
first  teachers.  After  a  few  days,  when  Jan  called 


On  the  Canal  5P 

in  Dutch,  "Can  you  come  up  on  the  boat  to  play?" 
the  English  children  would  answer,  "Yes,"  or 
"No,"  in  his  language. 

They  soon  learned  the  Dutch  names  for  the 
games  they  played,  for  the  different  parts  of  the 
boat,  and  for  many  things  in  their  own  homes. 
Little  by  little  they  grew  to  understand  what  their 
neighbors  said  to  them.  The  children  learned  the 
language  much  easier  than  their  parents  did. 

Jan  and  Katrina  lived  on  the  canal  boat  winter 
and  summer.  They  had  no  other  home,  and  they 
did  not  wish  for  one.  They  thought  a  canal  boat 
much  better  than  a  house,  which  must  always 
stay  in  one  place. 

Many  families  lived  in  their  boats  all  of  the  year. 
In  winter  they  had  to  live  in  the  little  cabin,  but 
in  summer  the  kitchen,  dining  room,  and  sitting 
room  were  all  on  deck. 

All  Hollanders  are  fond  of  flowers  and  you  are 
sure  to  see  them  somewhere  about  each  home.  Of 
course  Katrina  had  her  little  flower  garden.  It 
was  in  one  corner  of  the  deck,  and  her  mother 
had  a  long  box  of  plants  in  the  cabin  window. 

All  fall  and  winter  this  canal  boat  stayed  in  the 
same  place.  While  their  father  worked  in  the  mill, 
Jan  and  Katrina  went  to  school.  Katrina  often 
knitted  as  she  walked  to  and  from  school.  Little 
Dutch  girls  often  knit  on  the  street.  They  can 
knit  and  walk  as  easily  as  we  can  talk  and  walk. 


THE  WEEKLY  SCRUBBING  DAY 

EARLY  one  morning  soon  after  the  Pilgrims 
came  to  Holland  they  heard  strange  sounds 
in  the  street.  Such  a  splashing  and 
dashing  of  water!  Swish!  swish!  trickle!  trickle! 

Could  it  be  the  dike  was  leaking?  Mary 
Chilton  ran  to  the  door  to  see  what  was  the  matter. 

There  she  saw  Mevrow  van  Zant  and  her 
daughter  with  jars,  and  pails,  and  kettles  of 
water.  With  her  strong  white  arms  the  girl 
dashed  the  water  upon  the  sides  of  the  house. 
With  long-handled  brushes  she  and  her  mother 
scrubbed  the  windows  and  walls.  Then  Hilda 
dashed  on  more  water  and  they  scrubbed  again. 

Splash!  dash!  swish!  drip! 

How  the  windows  shine!  Just  find  a  spot  of 
dust  on  that  house,  if  you  can ! 

Then  out  came  more  pails  and  kettles  of  water, 
and  more  plump  Hollanders  in  their  white  caps, 
short  skirts,  and  wooden  shoes.  All  up  and  down 
the  street,  on  both  sides  of  the  canal,  it  was,  splash ! 
dash !  swish !  drip ! 

Even  the  canal  boats  were  having  a  wonderful 
scrubbing,  both  inside  and  outside.  Their  brass 
trimmings  were  polished  like  gold. 

While  Mary  Chilton  looked  on  with  wonder  in 
her  round  eyes,  her  father  came  out  of  the  house. 

60 


The  Weekly  Scrubbing  Day 


61 

I  think 


"Why  so  sober,  little  one?"  he  asked, 
they  will  not  dash  water  over  you." 

"I  was  wondering  if  our  houses  are  the 
only  ones  on  the  street  left  dirty,  or  if  we  had 
the  only  clean  ones  before.  I  do  not  see  any  dust." 


"On  scrubbing  day  Holland  scrubs" 

"Oh,  that  makes  no  difference, ' '  laughed  her  father. 
"On  scrubbing  day  Holland  scrubs.  It  comes  so 
often  things  never  have  time  to  get  very  dusty." 


A  LITTLE    MILK  PEDDLER 

IN  a  cottage  near  the  Pilgrims  lived  Mevrow 
van  Ness  and  her  three  children.     Karl  was 
twelve  years  old  and  did  not  like  being  called 
a  child.     Had  he  not  been  "mother's  right-hand 
man"  all  these  long  weeks  while  his  father  was 
away  in  his  fishing  boat?    And  did  he  not  peddle 
milk   every   day  to  earn  money  for  the  family? 


"The  dogs  knew  where  to  take  the  milk  almost 
as  well  as  Karl" 

Karl  had  two  trusty  dogs,  and  every  morning 
he  harnessed  them  to  a  little  cart.  Into  the  cart 
he  put  three  shining  kettles  filled  with  milk  and  a 
long-handled  dipper  to  measure  it.  Sometimes 
there  were  round,  yellow  cheeses  or  butter-like 
balls  of  gold  to  put  into  the  cart,  for  people  were 
always  glad  to  buy  Mevrow's  butter  and  cheese. 

62 


A  Little  Milk  Peddler  63 

The  little  Pilgrim  boys  liked  to  go  with  Karl 
when  he  peddled  milk.  They  liked  to  help  him 
harness  the  dogs,  and  when  the  cart  was  ready, 
away  they  would  all  go  over  the  rough  stone 
street.  It  was  hard  to  tell  which  made  the  most 
noise,  Karl's  wooden  shoes,  the  heavy  wheels 
of  the  cart,  or  the  clanging  of  the  milk  kettles 
as  they  bumped  together. 

The  dogs  knew  where  to  take  the  milk  almost  as 
well  as  Karl  did.  They  stood  very  still  while  he 
went  to  the  door.  Often  a's  Karl  raised  his  hand 
to  rap,  the  door  opened,  for  the  good  housewife 
had  seen  him  in  her  looking-glass.  Many  of  the 
Dutch  women  had  two  looking-glasses  just  outside 
their  windows.  In  them  they  could  see  far  up 
and  down  the  street  without  leaving  their  chairs. 

There  was  at  least  one  pair  of  wooden  shoes  on 
nearly  every  doorstep,  for  the  children  of  Holland 
are  taught  to  take  off  their  shoes  before  they  go 
into  the  house. 

One  morning  there  was  a  pretty  blue  pincushion 
on  the  door  of  a  house  where  Karl  and  Jonathan 
Brewster  left  milk.  It  was  made  of  silk  and 
trimmed  with  ribbon  and  lace. 

"What  a  queer  place  for  a  pincushion!" 
exclaimed  Jonathan. 

"Don't  you  know  what  that  means?  The 
storks  have  brought  a  baby  girl  to  this  house," 
answered  Karl. 


64  Pilgrim  Stories 

"The  storks!"  exclaimed  Jonathan,  in  surprise. 

"The  storks,  of  course,"  answered  Karl,  "If 
you  are  kind  to  the  storks,  and  never  hurt  them 
or  say  cross  things  about  them,  they  will  bring 
you  all  sorts  of  good  luck.  Perhaps  they  will  like 
you  well  enough  to  build  a  nest  on  your  chimney. 
If  you  nail  a  cartwheel  across  the  largest  chimney, 
it  will  make  a  better  place  for  a  nest." 

"There  goes  a  stork  now,  with  a  frog  in  his 
mouth.  As  he  flies  he  looks  like  a  great  goose, 
except  for  those  long  legs  stretched  out  behind 
him,"  said  Jonathan. 

"Oh,  he  is  much  larger  than  a  goose,  and  his 
bill  is  three  times  as  long." 

"Are  storks  as  good  to  eat  as  geese?"  asked 
Jonathan. 

"To  eat!  Eat  a  stork!"  cried  Karl,  in  horror. 
"We  would  not  kill  a  stork  for  anything.  Did  I 
not  tell  you  storks  bring  good  luck?" 

"It  would  be  good  luck  to  get  such  a  big  bird  if 
it  tasted  as  good  as  Christmas  goose,"  replied 
Jonathan. 

"Greedy!  it  would  be  the  last  good  luck  you 
would  ever  have,"  answered  the  little  Hollander. 

"Pooh!"  said  Jonathan,  "My  father  says  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  luck." 

"Just  let  me  tell  you  what  happened  to  Jacob 
Pelton,"  said  Karl.  "For  two  hours  he  had  sat  on 
the  dike  with  his  rod  and  line  and  had  caught 


A  Little  Milk  Peddler  6$ 

only  three   little  fish,  so  Jacob  was  very  cross. 

"Just  as  he  came  up  to  his  house  with  his  basket 
on  his  arm,  down  flew  one  of  the  storks  which 
lived  on  his  chimney.  I  suppose  the  stork  had 
not  had  good  luck  with  his  fishing,  either,  and  his 
babies  and  their  mother  were  hungry. 

"When  the  stork  saw  Jacob's  basket  of  fish  he 
put  in  his  long  bill  and  helped  himself  to  the 
largest  one  there.  Oh,  how  angry  Jacob  was! 
Before  the  stork  had  time  to  spread  his  wings, 
Jacob  struck  him  with  his  staff.  I  am  sure  he  did 
not  mean  to  kill  the  bird,  but  there  he  lay  dead. 

"And  now  listen,"  said  Karl,  in  a  low  voice. 
"That  very  week  the  cows  got  in  and  ate  up  all  of 
his  garden.  Then  little  Peter  fell  off  the  dike 
and  broke  his  arm.  Not  long  after  that  Jacob 
lost  his  place  in  the  mill.  He  has  had  bad  luck 
ever  since  he  killed  that  stork." 

"  I  do  not  believe  the  storks  had  a  thing  to  do  with 
it,"  said  Jonathan,  when  the  story  was  ended. 

"You  just  ask  anybody  in  Amsterdam  whether 
storks  bring  luck,"  answered  Karl. 

"You  have  a  nest  of  storks  on  your  chimney. 
What  good  luck  did  they  ever  bring  you?"  asked 
Jonathan. 

"Oh,  we  are  always  lucky,"  answered  Karl. 
"Every  season  father  catches  a  great  boat  load  of 
fish.  We  can  always  sell  our  milk  and  vegetables, 
butter  and  cheese.  We  are  almost  always  well, 


66  Pilgrim  Stories 

and  all  last  year  I  stood  at  the  head  of  my  class 
at  school.  Yes,  the  storks  have  brought  us  much 
good  luck." 

"I  do  not  believe  in  storks,  anyway,"  insisted 
the  little  Englishman. 

"Hush!"  whispered  Karl.  "You  would  better 
not  let  the  storks  hear  you  say  that." 


WINTER   IN   HOLLAND 

WHEN  the  days  grew  shorter  and  cooler 
there  were  no  baby  storks  in  their  homes 
on  the  chimney  tops.  Those  that  were 
little  birdlings  when  the  Pilgrims  went  to  Holland 
had  grown  large  and  strong.  For  weeks  their 
parents  had  taken  them  on  long  flights  into  the 
country,  that  their  wings  might  grow  strong  for 
a  longer  journey. 

Still  the  days  grew  shorter.  The  cold  north 
wind  blew  off  the  sea.  Even  the  nest  on  the 
chimney  was  no  longer  comfortable. 

The  storks  knew  it  was  time  to  fly  to  their  winter 
home  in  the  far  south.  So  they  spread  their  wings 
and  away  they  flew  in  long  lines  across  the  sky, 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  them. 

Then  came  a  still,  cold  night,  and  a  day  just 
as  cold.  There  were  no  little  girls  knitting  on 
the  street  that  day.  Their  fingers  were  hidden 
in  warm  red  mittens,  and  they  hurried  home 
as  fast  as  their  wooden  shoes  would  carry  them. 

Boys  swung  their  arms  to  keep  warm,  and 
talked  of  the  fun  there  would  be  on  the  ice  if  it 
stayed  cold  until  to-morrow.  There  would  be  no 
school,  and  the  stores  and  mills  would  be  closed,  for 
the  first  day  of  skating  is  a  holiday  in  Holland. 

The  next  morning  the  Pilgrims  were  awakened 

67 


68 


Pilgrim  Stories 


at  daybreak  by  merry  shouts  on  the  canal. 
Bartholomew  Allerton  ran  to  the  window,  but  the 
frost  on  the  panes  was  so  thick  he  could  not  see  out. 
He  breathed  upon  the  glass  and  scraped  away  some 
of  the  frost.  Down  the  canal  came  eight  boys  in  a 


"Everybody  is  on  skates  today" 

row,  each  holding  to  the  jacket  of  the  boy  in  front 
of  him.  They  flew  past  the  house  like  a  flash  of  light. 
Bartholomew  could  hardly  wait  to  eat  his  break 
fast,  he  was  so  eager  to  go  out  upon  the  canal. 


Winter  in  Holland  69 

Suppose  we  put  on  our  skates  and  go  with  him. 

What  a  merry  place  the  canal  is  this  morning  i 
Everybody  is  on  skates  to-day.  Here  come  three 
market  women  from  the  country.  Each  has  on 
her  shoulders  a  wooden  yoke  from  which  hang 
baskets  of  vegetables.  There  is  a  man  with  a 
yoke,  too  He  must  have  milk  in  those  bright 
cans.  I  am  afraid  it  will  freeze  if  he  has  far  to  go. 

Just  see  Mevrow  Vetter !  What  is  she  carrying 
on  her  back?  Oh,  it  is  her  baby  in  a  snug  little 
nest  made  of  his  mother's  shawl.  He  puts  his 
arms  around  her  neck  and  she  holds  his  little 
hands.  He  is  warm  and  happy,  and  he  coos  and 
chatters,  trying  to  tell  her  about  the  people  he 
sees  on  the  canal.  He  thinks  skating  is  great  fun. 

There  goes  Doctor  Fuller,  skating  to  see  a  sick 
man  at  the  other  end  of  town.  At  the  rate  he 
goes  he  will  soon  be  there.  And  who  is  this  push 
ing  a  sled  before  him  as  he  skates  ?  Bartholomew 
knows  him.  That  is  Peter  Houten  with  his  lame 
sister.  She  cannot  skate,  so  Peter  has  fixed  her 
chair  on  a  sled  and  covered  it  with  warm  fur.  On 
the  sled  is  a  little  foot  stove  filled  with  hot  coals, 
so  she  will  not  get  cold.  Her  pale  cheeks  have 
grown  rosy  and  her  eyes  shine  with  pleasure. 

Now  we  have  come  to  the  great  canal  beyond 
the  city.  It  is  much  wider  than  the  others. 
Here  are  beautiful  sleighs  drawn  by  horses,  their 
bells  making  merry  music  on  the  canal. 


70  Pilgrim  Stories 

There  is  a  group  of  boys  on  skates,  playing  the 
game  boys  play  all  the  world  over.  They  hit  a 
ball  with  their  clubs  and  away  it  flies  over  the 
smooth  ice.  Look  out,  boys!  See  these  white 
sails  flying  down  the  canal.  Whoever  saw  a 
sleepy  canal  boat  go  so  fast!  Has  it  too  put  on 
skates  ? 

Whiz!  Whir-r-r!  It  is  past.  What  was  it? 
Lookout!  Here  comes  another!  Whir-r!  whiz! 
whir-r-r ! 

They  are  ice  boats  and  have  runners  like  a  sled. 
The  wind  fills  their  sails  and  they  go  faster  than  a 
ship  on  the  water,  faster  than  the  swiftest  horse. 
They  are  too  dangerous  to  run  on  the  crowded 
canals  in  the  city.  They  must  stay  on  the  lakes, 
or  river,  or  on  the  great  canals  outside  of  the 
town.  Even  here  they  must  stay  on  their  own 
side  of  the  canal  and  we  must  stay  on  ours,  or 
some  one  will  be  hurt. 


FROM  AMSTERDAM  TO  LEIDEN 

A  FEW  miles  away  from  Amsterdam   is  the 
beautiful  city  of   Leiden,  with  its  many 
water-streets,  fine  schools,  and  great  woolen 
and  linen   mills.     For   many    reasons   this   city 
seemed    to    the    Pilgrims   a    better    place    than 
Amsterdam  to  make  their  homes. 

So  one  spring  morning  found  a  little  fleet  of 
canal  boats  tied  up  in  the  street  where  the  Pilgrims 
all  lived.  It  did  not  take  them  long  to  load  their 
goods  upon  the  boats,  for  they  had  very  little. 
They  were  much  poorer  than  they  had  been  in 
England,  but  they  were  not  unhappy. 

When  all  was  ready,  the  square,  brown  sails 
were  raised  and  the  boats  moved  slowly  down  the 
canal  between  the  rows  of  houses  and  trees.  At 
every  cross  street  the  bridge  must  be  raised  to 
allow  them  to  pass. 

From  one  little  canal  into  another  they  sailed, 
until  the  city  was  left  behind.  Then  they  passed 
into  the  great,  broad  canal  which  lay  across  the 
country  from  city  to  city.  It  looked  like  a  long, 
bright  ribbon  stretched  across  the  green  meadows. 

It  was  a  trip  long  to  be  remembered,  this  ride 
through  fairyland.  Behind  them  were  the  shin 
ing  waters  of  the  sea  and  the  spires  of  the  city 
they  were  leaving. 

71 


J2  Pilgrim  Stories 

On  both  sides  were  rich,  green  meadows  and 
herds  of  fine  black  and  white  cattle.  There  were 
many  beautiful  ponds  and  lakes,  and  pretty  little 
summerhouses  gaily  painted. 

Whichever  way  the  Pilgrims  looked  they  could 
see  the  great  windmills.  Sometimes  they  stood 
in  groups,  looking  like  a  family  of  giants  against 
the  sky.  Here  and  there  one  stood  so  close  to 
the  canal  that  the  Pilgrims  could  see  the  flowers 
in  the  windows  of  the  first  story,  where  the  miller's 
family  lived.  They  could  even  speak  to  the 
miller's  children,  who  played  about  the  door  or 
helped  their  father  load  the  bags  of  meal  into  his 
boat. 

Rut  these  windmills  were  not  all  used  to  grind 
grain  into  meal.  Some  were  sawmills;  others 
pumped  water  out  of  the  low  meadows  into  the 
canal.  The  canals  flowed  between  thick  stone 
walls  and  were  high  above  the  fields  about  them. 

Sometimes  the  Pilgrims  passed  gardens  of  gay 
flowers.  These  were  tulip  farms  where  thousands 
of  these  bright  flowers  were  raised. 

There  is  no  flower  so  dear  to  the  hearts  of  the 
Hollanders  as  the  tulip.  There  was  once  a  time 
when  they  seemed  to  think  more  of  these  bright 
blossoms  than  of  anything  else.  They  sold 
houses  and  lands,  cattle  and  horses,  to  buy  a  few 
tulip  bulbs.  They  were  more  precious  than 
jewels.  A  thousand  dollars  was  not  thought  too 


From  Amsterdam  to  Leiden  73 

great  a  price  for  the  finest  plants.  We  read  that 
one  man  paid  five  times  that  sum  for  a  single  bulb. 

But  when  the  Pilgrims  were  in  Holland  the 
"tulip  craze"  had  not  yet  begun.  I  think  the 
Hollanders  enjoyed  their  beds  of  common  tulips 
more  than  they  did  the  few  costly  blossoms  they 
bought  later.  If  a  few  of  them  died  then  there 
•  was  no  great  loss. 

As  the  Pilgrims  came  nearer  the  city  of  Leiden, 
they  saw  a  strange  sight.  Close  beside  a  large 
garden  of  bright  flowers  was  a  field  which  looked 
as  if  it  were  covered  with  deep  snow.  They 
could  see  it  was  not  a  field  of  white  flowers.  What 
could  it  be  ? 

When  the  boats  reached  this  place,  the  Pilgrims 
saw  long  pieces  of  white  linen  bleaching  in  the 
sun.  They  had  been  woven  in  one  of  the  mills 
at  Leiden. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  great  stone  wall  about 
the  city  came  in  sight.  Above  it  rose  the  roofs 
of  buildings,  church  spires,  and  the  beautiful  bell 
tower  of  the  statehouse. 

As  the  band  of  Pilgrims  sailed  through  the 
water-gates  into  the  city,  the  chimes  in  the 
tower  began  to  ring.  To  the  Pilgrims  they  seemed 
to  say,  "Welcome  to  Leiden!  Welcome  to 
Leiden!" 


IN  LEIDEN 

BEFORE  bringing  their  families  to  Leiden, 
the  Pilgrim  men  had  all  found  work  in 
that  city.  A  few  of  them  worked  in  the 
printing  shops,  but  most  of  them  went  to  the 
great  woolen  mills. 

Here  some  washed  the  wool,  or  combed  it  ready 
for  the  spinning  wheels.  Some  dyed  it,  some 
wove  it  into  cloth.  Others  packed  the  finished 
cloth  in  boxes,  or  loaded  it  on  ships  on  the  canal. 

This  work  was  very  different  from  anything 
they  had  done  in  England.  There  they  had  been 
farmers,  working  in  the  fresh  air  and  sunshine  on 
their  own  fields.  At  first  the  work  in  the  mills 
seemed  very  hard  to  them,  but  they  worked  early 
and  late,  hoping  to  earn  enough  to  buy  little 
farms  sometime. 

The  Pilgrims  had  no  church  of  their  own  when 
they  went  to  Leiden,  but  John  Robinson,  their 
pastor,  had  a  large  house,  and  they  all  went  there 
to  worship. 

There  was  no  reason  for  secret  meetings  in 
Holland.  As  long  as  they  were  honest  and  well 
behaved,  no  one  cared  how  the  newcomers  wor 
shiped.  So  every  Sunday  morning,  when  the 
bells  in  the  great  church  towers  rang,  the  Pilgrims 
walked  to  Master  Robinson's  house. 

74 


In  Leiden 


75 


Near  their  pastor's  home  was  the  largest  and 
finest  church  in  Leiden.  As  they  walked  to  meet 
ing,  they  met  hundreds  of  good  Hollanders  in 
their  finest  suits  and  silver  buckles,  or  fullest 
skirts  and  prettiest  lace  caps,  going  to  church. 


"In  their  finest  suits  ...  or 
fullest  skirts" 

Across  her  forehead  nearly  every  woman  wore 
a  beautifully  carved  band  of  gold,  which  ended 
in  large,  round  buttons  above  her  ears.  From 
these  great  gold  buttons  hung  long  earrings  which 
almost  touched  her  shoulders. 


7<5  Pilgrim  Stories 

The  little  girls  dressed  much  like  their  mothers 
except  that  their  headdress  was  more  simple. 
Sometimes  their  little  wooden  shoes  were  prettily 
carved  with  leaves  and  blossoms. 

At  first,  as  they  passed,  these  people  looked  with 
wonder  at  the  Pilgrims.  Their  plain  brown  or 
gray  dress,  their  high  hats,  or  simple  little  caps 
looked  very  odd  to  the  Hollanders  who  were  so 
fond  of  bright  colors  and  pretty  clothes.  But  soon 
they  felt  acquainted  with  their  new  neighbors 
and  nodded  to  them  pleasantly  when  they  met. 

A  number  of  strangers  came  to  John  Robinson's 
meeting  one  morning.  Some  of  these  strangers 
were  English  people  who  had  not  come  from 
Scrooby.  Some  were  from  France,  where  their 
king  had  treated  them  as  cruelly  as  King  James 
had  treated  the  Pilgrims. 

Among  them  were  Master  and  Mistress 
Mullens,  and  their  two  children,  Joseph  and 
Priscilla.  Joseph  was  a  frail  little  fellow  and 
very  timid.  Priscilla  was  a  rosy-cheeked,  merry 
little  girl  with  sunny  hair  and  laughing  eyes. 

Master  Robinson  and  the  other  Pilgrims  were 
glad  to  have  these  people  join  them.  They  made 
them  very  welcome.  How  happy  they  all  were 
as  they  sang  their  songs  of  praise  and  listened  to 
their  pastor's  voice.  No  more  hiding  from  the 
soldiers;  no  more  dark,  damp  prisons.  Those 
sad  days  were  gone  forever. 


A    PERPLEXING    PROBLEM 

WHEN  they  first  came  to  Holland,  every 
thing  seemed  strange  to  the  English 
children.  The  gay-colored  houses  with 
their  floors  of  blue  tile,  their  queer  little  fireplaces, 
and  their  steep  roofs,  were  very  different  from 
the  homes  they  had  left  in  England. 

They  had  never  seen  wooden  shoes  such  as  the 
Dutch  children  wore.  The  dikes  to  keep  out  the  sea, 
the  giant  windmills,  and  the  canals  all  seemed  odd. 

Strangest  of  all  was  the  language.  They 
thought  they  could  never  learn  it. 

But  after  they  had  lived  in  Holland  a  few  years 
these  things  did  not  seem  so  strange.  The  little 
English  children  began  to  like  the  Dutch  dress 
and  ways.  They  liked  the  canal  streets,  the 
whirling  windmills,  and  the  Dutch  cottages. 

They  liked  the  pretty,  bright  dresses  and  gold 
cap-buttons  which  the  Dutch  girls  wore,  and 
wished  to  dress  like  them.  They  sometimes 
coaxed  their  mothers  to  wear  pretty  lace  caps  and 
fine  earrings  such  as  their  neighbors  wore. 

"It  is  not  right  for  you  to  care  so  much  about 
pretty  clothes,"  said  their  parents.  "Plain  caps 
and  dresses  are  more  suitable  for  Pilgrims." 

These  children  soon  learned  the  language  of 
Holland,  and  liked  it  almost  as  well  as  their 

77 


7#  Pilgrim  Stories 

native  one.  Indeed,  some  of  them  liked  it  better, 
and  often  spoke  Dutch  at  home  instead  of  English. 

It  was  now  eleven  years  since  the  Pilgrims  had 
come  to  Holland.  In  this  time  many  babies 
had  been  born  in  their  new  homes.  When  these 
little  ones  began  to  talk,  their  parents  taught 
them  to  speak  English,  but  when  they  were  old 
enough  to  play  out  of  doors,  they  heard  Dutch  all 
about  them,  and  when  they  went  to  school  they 
heard  nothing  but  that  language.  Soon  the  little 
ones  were  speaking  better  Dutch  than  English. 

This  was  a  real  sorrow  to  the  Pilgrim  fathers 
and  mothers,  who  did  not  want  their  children 
to  become  Hollanders.  They  wished  them  to 
remember  the  English  language  and  English  ways. 
They  feared  that  in  a  few  years  no  one  could  tell 
their  children  from  those  of  the  Hollanders. 

The  Pilgrims  often  talked  about  their  old  homes 
in  England.  Many  of  them  were  not  so  well  and 
strong  since  they  worked  in  the  mills.  Worst  of 
all,  many  of  their  children  had  to  work  there 
while  they  were  still  young.  Their  rosy  cheeks 
were  growing  pale,  and  their  backs  bent. 

The  Pilgrims  longed  for  little  farms  of  their  own 
where  they  and  their  sons  could  work  in  the  open  air 
as  they  had  done  in  England,  but  they  were  too 
poor  to  buy  farms  in  Holland. 

"We  hear  much  about  the  new  land  across  the 
sea,"  said  John  Robinson,  their  pastor.  "A  good 


A  Perplexing  Problem  jg 

many  Englishmen  have  gone  there  and  made 
comfortable  homes  for  themselves.  They  say  it 
is  a  great,  beautiful  country  where  there  is  land 
enough  for  all." 

"I  am  told  the  ground  there  is  very  rich,  and 
the  crops  never  fail  for  want  of  rain  or  sunshine, ' ' 
said  John  Carver. 

"If  we  were  in  America  we  could  make  homes 
such  as  we  had  in  England.  We  could  have  our 
own  church,  and  bring  up  our  children  to  love 
and  serve  God,"  said  Elder  Brewster. 

"Can  we  go  so  far  away?"  they  thought. 
Between  America  and  Holland  the  sea  is  very 
wide. 

The  Pilgrims  thought  of  the  pleasant  homes  and 
the  dear  friends  they  would  leave  in  Holland. 
They  thought  how  long  it  would  be  before  they 
could  have  as  good  schools  as  those  in  Leiden. 

They  thought  of  the  long  voyage,  and  of  the 
hardships  of  life  in  the  new  land.  There  was  not 
a  city,  nor  a  town,  nor  even  a  house  in  the  place 
where  they  would  go.  There  were  no  mills  where 
they  could  buy  timber  for  their  cottages.  They 
would  have  to  cut  down  the  trees  to  make  their 
own  lumber. 

"The  Indians  live  in  the  forests.  They  are  said 
to  be  very  savage  and  cruel,"  said  Master  Allerton. 

"We  would  treat  them  like  brothers  and  perhaps 
they  would  be  our  friends,"  answered  the  pastor. 


8o  Pilgrim  Stories 

Whenever  the  Pilgrims  met  they  talked  about 
going  to  America.  They  talked  about  the  broad 
fields  they  would  own,  and  the  cozy  homes  they 
would  build. 

"Above  all,"  they  said,  "we  shall  be  free.  We 
will  build  our  own  church  and  worship  God  as  we 
think  right.  Our  children  will  be  healthier, 
happier,  and  better  than  in  this  large  city." 

And  so  the  Pilgrims  decided  to  go  to  America. 
But  they  could  not  all  go  at  once.  There  would 
be  no  houses  for  them  to  live  in  at  first,  and  many 
were  too  old,  or  too  weak,  to  bear  the  hardships  of 
starting  the  new  home. 

It  was  decided  that  if  the  greater  number  of  the 
Pilgrims  went  to  America,  John  Robinson  would 
go  with  them.  If  fewer  went,  Elder  Brewster 
would  go  with  them  and  be  their  pastor.  It  was 
soon  learned  that  most  of  them  could  not  leave 
Leiden  until  later,  so  Elder  Brewster  and  about 
eighty  of  his  friends  planned  to  go  that  summer. 

Only  those  who  were  well  and  strong  were  to  go 
in  the  first  ship.  Many  families  would  have  to  be 
separated  for  a  year  or  more. 

Elder  Brewster's  family  was  large,  and  he  could 
not  take  them  all  at  first.  Love  and  his  little 
brother  were  too  young  to  be  left.  Mistress 
Brewster  could  not  be  contented  an  hour  if  the 
wide  sea  lay  between,  her  and  her  little  boys. 

Jonathan  Brewster  was  a  young  man  now,  and 


A  Perplexing  Problem  Si 

was  working  in  Leiden.  Patience  and  Fear  had 
grown  to  be  large  girls,  and  could  spin  and  weave, 
sew  and  cook  almost  as  well  as  Mistress  Brewster 
herself. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Jonathan  would  go  on 
with  his  work  in  Leiden,  with  his  sisters  to  keep 
house  for  him.  They  all  hoped  to  be  able  to  join 
the  others  in  America  in  a  year  or  two. 


THE  SWORD  OF  MILES  STANDISH 

AMONG  those  who  went  to  John  Robinson's 
church  was  Captain  Miles  Standish.  He 
was  an  Englishman,  but  he  had  lived 
many  years  in  Holland,  where  he  went  to  help 
the  Dutch  fight  for  their  freedom. 

Once  while  he  was  fighting  in  Holland,  some 
soldiers  went  to  the  house  of  an  old  man  who 
made  swords  and  armor.  They  took  some  of 
the  armor  and  were  threatening  to  harm  the  old 
man  and  his  daughter. 

Captain  Standish  saw  them,  and  shouted, 
"You  cowards!  To  steal  from  a  poor  old  man! 
Cowards !  Give  back  everything  you  have  taken. ' ' 
And  the  rude  soldiers  obeyed. 

Then  to  the  trembling  old  man  he  said,  "No 
harm  shall  come  to  you,  so  do  not  be  afraid. 
Your  life  is  safe,  and  your  daughter,  too,  is  free 
from  danger.  Go  back  to  your  shop  in  peace." 

The  old  man  could  not  thank  him  then;  his 
heart  was  too  full.  But  that  night  Miles  Standish 
heard  a  knock  at  his  door.  When  he  looked  out, 
he  saw  the  old  sword  maker  standing  in  the  dark 
ness.  He  had  something  carefully  wrapped  in  his 
cloak. 

"Captain  Standish,"  he  said,  "you  are  a  brave, 
brave  soldier.  You  are  more  than  that ;  you  are  a 

t* 


The  Sword  of  Miles  Standish  83 

kind  and  noble  man."  Then,  holding  out  the  gift 
he  had  brought,  the  man  said,  "Take  this  sword 
and  take  with  it  the  heart-felt  thanks  of  an  old  man 
whose  life  and  whose  daughter  you  have  saved." 

Miles  Standish  could  not  refuse  without  giving 
pain,  so  he  took  the  man's  gift.  It  was  a  fine  old 
sword  which  had  been  made  in  the  Far  East 
hundreds  of  years  before  Miles  Standish  was  born. 
On  one  side  were  engraved  the  sun,  moon,  and 
stars.  On  the  other  side  were  some  words  written 
in  an  old,  old  language. 

The  Captain  thanked  the  man  and  said,  "This 
sword  shall  always  be  my  friend.  It  shall  always 
be  ready  to  help  those  who  are  in  trouble."  He 
named  the  sword  "Gideon,"  and  he  sometimes 
spoke  to  it  as  though  it  were  a  friend. 

But  now  the  war  was  over,  and  though  it  had 
been  ten  years  since  Miles  Standish  had  needed 
"Gideon,"  it  always  hung  at  his  side. 

Captain  Standish  often  talked  with  the  Pilgrims 
about  their  plan  of  going  to  America.  He 
thought  about  the  savages  who  lived  in  the  new 
land,  and  about  the  ships  from  other  countries 
which  might  try  to  take  their  town. 

"I  will  go  with  you  to  your  new  home,"  he  said. 
"There  may  be  work  for  'Gideon'  and  me." 


PREPARING  FOR  THE  JOURNEY 

THAT  spring  brought  very  busy  days  to  the 
Pilgrims  in  Leiden.  Those  who  were  going 
to  America  had  many  things  to  prepare, 
and  those  who  stayed  behind  were  glad  to  help 
them  get  ready. 

They  must  have  plenty  of  cloth  made,  for  there 
would  be  no  time  to  weave  more  until  their  new 
homes  were  built.  It  would  be  cold  winter  by 
that  time  and  they  must  have  warm  jackets,  and 
dresses,  and  cloaks. 

So  hum-m-m-m!  hum-m-m-m!  went  the  spin 
ning  wheels  from  morning  till  night.  And  click ! 
clack!  click!  clack!  went  the  big  looms,  as  the 
flying  shuttle  wove  the  gray  yarn  into  cloth. 

Far  into  the  night  the  tired  women  stitched 
with  busy  fingers.  In  those  days  all  the  sewing 
must  be  done  by  hand,  and  it  took  much  time  and 
much  patient  labor  to  make  a  garment. 

There  was  plenty  of  work  for  the  children  as 
well  as  for  their  elders.  Even  tiny  hands  could 
hold  the  skein  while  mother  wound  the  yarn  into 
a  ball.  And  you  should  have  seen  the  dozens  of 
thick,  warm  mittens  and  stockings  that  were  knit 
by  little  hands  that  summer. 

The  Pilgrims  could  not  take  any  cows  with 
them,  so  in  every  cottage  there  were  small  tubs 

84 


Preparing  for  the  Journey  85 

being  packed  with  sweet,  yellow  butter  to  be  taken 
to  the  new  homes  across  the  sea. 

It  would  take  them  many  weeks  to  cross  the 
ocean,  and  much  food  would  be  needed  for  the 
journey.  They  could  not  raise  more  grain  until 
the  next  summer,  so  they  must  take  enough  to 
last  them  all  winter. 

With  the  money  the  Pilgrims  had  given  him, 
Elder  Brewster  had  bought  a  small  ship  in  Hol 
land.  It  was  called  the  "Speedwell,"  and  it  now 
waited  for  them  at  Delfshaven,  about  twenty-four 
miles  away. 

If  you  had  been  in  Leiden  one  morning  late  in 
July,  you  might  have  seen  the  Pilgrims  loading 
the  canal  boats  which  would  cany  them  to  Delfs 
haven.  Almost  before  it  was  light  that  morning 
the  men  began  to  carry  things  upon  the  boats. 
Their  kind  Dutch  neighbors  worked  as  busily  as 
they,  helping  to  carry  the  heavy  boxes  of  ship 
bread,  salted  meats,  or  dried  fruits. 

There  were  barrels  and  barrels  of  meal,  and 
other  barrels  holding  grain  for  seed.  There  were 
great  sacks  of  beans,  dried  peas,  and  vegetables, 
but  at  last  the  boats  were  loaded. 

The  Pilgrims  had  many  friends  in  England  who 
they  thought  would  like  to  go  to  America  with 
them.  So  Elder  Brewster  had  gone  to  England 
to  see  them,  and  to  arrange  for  a  ship  to  carry 
them  all  across  the  sea. 


86  Pilgrim  Stories 

He  was  gone  several  weeks,  and  when  he 
returned  he  found  the  Pilgrims  ready  for  the 
journey.  Each  family  could  take  only  a  few  of 
the  most  needful  things.  There  would  not  be 
room  on  the  ship  for  all  their  goods,  so  they  would 
take  only  such  things  as  they  could  not  make. 

The  beautiful  china  plates  and  cups  which  they 
had  bought  in  Holland  must  be  left,  for 
they  would  be  easily  broken.  Their  old  pewter 
dishes  would  last  much  longer,  and  they  would 
look  very  well  when  they  were  scoured  bright 
with  sand. 

They  would  take  their  silver  spoons  and  the 
steel  knives  they  had  brought  from  England. 
The  old  brass  candlesticks,  the  spinning  wheels, 
and  the  great  copper  kettles  must  have  a  place 
in  the  boat. 


FAREWELL  TO  HOLLAND 

WHEN  all  was  ready,  they  bade  their 
Dutch  friends  good-bye.  How  kind 
these  people  had  been  to  them  during 
the  years  they  had  lived  in  Holland.  They  had 
done  all  they  could  to  make  the  Pilgrims  happy 
and  comfortable  in  their  city.  And  when  they 
were  preparing  to  go  away,  many  yellow  balls  of 
cheese,  little  tubs  of  butter,  and  webs  of  white 
linen  came  from  these  good  Hollanders. 

John  Robinson  and  all  the  members  of  his 
church  went  to  Delfshaven  with  those  who  were 
to  sail  on  the  "Speedwell." 

As  the  canal  boats  moved  slowly  away,  the 
Pilgrims  looked  for  the  last  time  upon  their  little 
cottages.  They  had  lived  twelve  long  years  in 
Holland,  and  it  seemed  like  a  dear  home  to  them. 
Most  of  the  children  had  never  known  any  other 
home. 

Groups  of  Hollanders  stood  at  their  doors  to 
wave  farewell  to  the  Pilgrims  as  they  passed. 
Five  or  six  little  boys  with  bare  legs  and  clumsy 
wooden  shoes,  ran  along  beside  the  canal  boats, 
calling  in  Dutch  to  their  friends. 

But  now  the  boys  had  shouted  a  last  "good 
bye;"  the  city  with  its  great  mills  and  shops,  its 
quaint  houses  and  pretty  gardens  lay  behind  them. 

87 


88  Pilgrim  Stories 

They  were  coming  to  the  beautiful  city  gate  with 
its  round  towers  and  pointed  spires. 

Mary  Chilton  and  Faith  and  Patience  Brewster 
stood  together  looking  at  the  great  gate.  "Do 
you  remember  the  first  time  we  passed  through 
this  gate,  Mary?"  asked  Patience.  "That  was 
eleven  years  ago  and  you  were  a  very  little  girl 
then." 

"Yes,  indeed,  I  remember  it,"  answered  Mary. 
"I  was  six  years  old.  I  can  remember  our  home 
in  England  and  the  ship  in  which  we  came  to 
Holland.  Can  you,  Fear?" 

"I  do  not  remember  much  about  England," 
answered  Fear,  who  was  the  youngest  of  the 
three,  "but  I  remember  our  home  in  Amsterdam. 
I  wonder  where  Jan  and  Katrina  are  this 
summer.  Their  boat  was  in  Leiden  all  winter." 

And  so  the  girls  talked  of  anything  except  their 
long  parting.  They  could  not  speak  of  that. 
The  tears  were  so  close  to  Fear's  eyes  she  was 
afraid  to  wink  lest  they  run  over. 

This  was  a  beautiful  summer  day.  Holland 
meadows  had  never  looked  brighter.  There  were 
gay  little  summerhouses  perched  on  stilts  by  the 
side  of  the  lake.  Some  stood  in  the  water  and  a 
little  boat  tied  to  the  steps  of  one  showed  how  its 
owner  had  reached  it.  There  he  sat  smoking  his 
long  pipe  and  watching  his  little  son,  who  sat  on 
the  doorstep  and  fished. 


Farewell  to  Holland  89 

Everywhere  were  the  windmills,  the  dikes,  and 
the  canals  that  had  seemed  so  strange  to  them  at 
first.  Now  all  these  things  seemed  like  old 
friends  to  the  Pilgrims  and  made  them  sad  to  say 
good-bye  to  Holland. 

Late  in  the  evening  they  reached  Delfshaven, 
where  the  "Speedwell"  was  waiting  for  them. 
All  night  the  sailors  worked,  loading  the  goods 
from  the  canal  boats  into  the  ship,  and  making 
ready  for  an  early  start  in  the  morning. 

Then  came  the  hardest  parting.  The  tears 
would  start.  Even  strong  men  wept  as  they 
looked  into  each  other's  faces  and  thought  that 
perhaps  they  might  never  see  these  friends  again. 

There  on  the  ocean  shore  these  brave  men  and 
women  knelt  down  and  prayed  to  the  God  they 
loved.  They  prayed  that  He  would  be  with  those 
who  stayed  as  well  as  with  those  who  sailed  away. 
Their  pastor's  voice  broke  many  times  as  he  spoke 
to  God  of  his  friends. 

After  this  prayer,  the  Pilgrims  went  silently  and 
sadly  on  board  the  "Speedwell"  and  sailed  away 
to  England.  They  waved  to  the  dear  ones  on  the 
shore  and  stood  watching  them  as  long  as  they 
could  be  seen. 


THE  "SPEEDWELL" 

FOUR  days  of  good  wind  and  fair  weather 
brought  the  "Speedwell"  to  England. 
There  the  Pilgrims  found  about  forty 
friends  who  wished  to  go  with  them  to  America. 
They  had  hired  a  little  ship  called  the  "May 
flower,"  which  now  lay  in  the  harbor  ready  to 
sail.  It,  too,  was  loaded  with  provisions  for 
the  long  journey  and  the  cold  winter. 

The  "Speedwell"  was  a  smaller  vessel  than  the 
"Mayflower,"  so  some  of  the  Pilgrims  from  Holland 
joined  their  friends  on  the  larger  boat.  Then  the 
two  ships  sailed  out  of  the  harbor  into  the  blue  sea. 

The  Pilgrims  watched  the  shores  of  their  native 
land  grow  faint  and  fainter.  Would  they  ever  see 
dear  old  England  again?  Surely  none  expected 
to  see  it  so  soon  as  they  did. 

They  were  hardly  out  of  sight  of  land  when  the 
"Speedwell"  began  to  leak.  They  could  see  no 
hole,  but  slowly  the  water  rose  in  the  bottom  of 
the  boat.  It  crept  around  the  boxes  and  barrels 
stored  there.  "The  hole  must  be  behind  this  pile 
of  boxes,"  said  the  captain. 

While  some  of  the  men  pumped  the  water  out  of 
the  ship,  others  quickly  moved  the  great  boxes 
away. 

Yes,  there  was  a  little  stream  of  water  running 

po 


The  "Speedwell"  gi 

down  from  a  hole  in  the  side  of  the  ship.  This 
was  soon  mended,  but  still  the  water  slowly  rose 
in  the  boat.  The  men  at  the  pumps  worked 
harder  than  ever,  but  the  water  came  in  as  fast  as 
they  could  pump  it  out. 

More  holes  were  found  and  mended,  but  still 
the  ship  leaked.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  go 
back  to  land  as  soon  as  possible.  Those  on  the 
"Mayflower"  did  not  wish  to  go  on  without  their 
friends,  so  both  ships  returned  to  England. 

When  the  "Speedwell"  reached  shore,  the  ship 
builders  came  to  look  at  it. 

"It  carries  too  heavy  a  mast  for  so  small  a 
ship,"  said  one. 

"The  hull  is  worn  out,"  said  another.  "See,  it 
needs  new  boards,  and  fresh  tar,  and  fresh  paint. 
It  will  take  weeks  to  repair  this  ship  and  make  it 
safe  for  so  long  a  voyage." 

What  could  the  Pilgrims  do?  The  fine  weather 
was  passing.  They  would  hardly  reach  America 
now  before  the  heavy  storms  of  winter  came.  It 
was  quite  plain  they  could  not  wait  until  the 
"Speedwell"  was  repaired. 

.  The  "Mayflower"  could  not  hold  all  who 
wished  to  go  to  America,  yet  the  Pilgrims  could 
not  hire  another  ship.  The  passengers  on  the 
"Speedwell"  were  a  long  way  from  home.  It 
seemed  hard  for  them  to  return  to  Holland. 

So  some  of  those  who  lived  in  England  offered 


Q2  Pilgrim  Stories 

to  give  up  their  places  in  the  "Mayflower"  and 
return  to  their  homes. 

"Next  summer  there  will  be  other  ships  sailing 
to  America  from  England,  and  it  may  be  a  long 
time  before  another  will  go  from  Holland,"  they 
said. 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  THE  "MAYFLOWER" 

WHEN  the  provisions  and  the  boxes  of 
other  goods  had  been  moved  from  the 
"Speedwell"  to  the  larger  boat,  the 
"Mayflower"  started  once  more.  Now  she  carried 
a  hundred  passengers  besides  her  sailors. 

We  should  think  the  "Mayflower"  a  very  small 
boat  in  which  to  cross  the  ocean.  The  cabin  was 
badly  crowded,  and  there  was  only  one  small  deck. 

At  that  time  no  one  had  thought  of  making  a 
boat  go  by  steam.  The  "Mayflower"  had  large 
white  sails,  and  wrhen  the  wind  was  good  she  sped 
over  the  water  like  a  great  sea  bird. 

But  sometimes  there  was  no  wind,  and  the 
little  vessel  lay  still  upon  the  quiet  water.  Some 
times  the  sky  grew  black  with  storm  clouds  and 
the  fierce  winds  swept  down  upon  the  ship.  Then 
the  sailors  quickly  bound  the  sails  close  to  the 
masts,  but  still  the  vessel  was  often  driven  far  out 
of  her  course.  No  wonder  it  took  so  long  to  cross 
the  ocean  in  those  days. 

In  one  of  these  great  storms  a  young  man 
almost  lost  his  life.  For  many  days  the  passengers 
had  been  kept  in  the  cabin  by  the  weather.  The 
deck  was  wet  and  slippery.  The  rough  winds 
swept  across  it;  the  waves  washed  over  it.  It 
was  not  safe  for  any  of  the  passengers  there. 

93 


Q4  Pilgrim  Stories 

But  John  Rowland  did  not  like  to  stay  quietly 
in  the  crowded,  cabin.  So  he  climbed  the  narrow 
stairs  and  stepped  out  upon  the  slippery  deck. 

How  wild  and  terrible  the  storm  was!  The 
waves  were  almost  as  high  as  the  masts!  Some 
times  the  "Mayflower"  rode  high  upon  the  tops  of 
the  waves.  At  other  times  it  was  quite  hidden 
between  them. 

John  saw  a  great  wave  about  to  break  over  the 
ship.  He  tried  to  reach  the  cabin  door,  but  he 
was  too  late.  With  a  crash  like  thunder,  the 
wave  struck  the  ship  and  swept  away  one  of  the 
masts.  John  seized  the  railing  with  both  hands, 
but  the  wave  was  stronger  than  he.  It  flung  him 
into  the  sea. 

' '  Help !     Oh,  help !"  he  cried.     ' '  Help !' ' 

But  his  voice  could  not  be  heard  above  the 
storm.  He  fought  with  the  waves  and  tried  to 
swim,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  The  water  closed 
over  his  head.  Who  could  help  him  now? 

Over  the  side  of  the  ship  hung  some  ropes 
dragged  down  by  the  falling  mast.  John  saw  one 
of  these  long  ropes  trailing  through  the  water. 
The  rope  was  close  at  hand,  and  he  reached  out 
and  grasped  it. 

Hand  over  hand,  he  pulled  himself  toward  the 
ship.  His  strength  was  fast  going.  Would  no 
one  come  to  his  rescue? 

Some   sailors  on   the   "Mayflower"   saw  John 


The  Voyage  of  the  "Mayflower"  95 

struggling  for  his  life.     "Hold  on,  John!"   they 
shouted,  as  they  pulled  in  the  rope. 

John  did  hold  on,  though  his  hands  were  stiff 
with  cold,  and  the  waves  beat  him  back  from  the 
ship.  Slowly  he  was  lifted  from  the  water,  and 
strong  arms  reached  down  to  help  him.  At  last 
he  lay  upon  the  deck,  faint  but  safe. 


WATER  BABIES 

ON  and  on  the  ship  sailed.     How  wide  the 
water  seemed. 

Some  days  were  full  of  sunshine:  then 
the  little  children  could  play  upon  the  deck. 
They  loved  to  watch  the  sunset  across  the  wide 
ocean.  Then  the  sky  was  bright  with  purple 
and  gold.  Each  wave  caught  the  colors  from 
the  clouds  until  the  whole  world  seemed  aglow. 

They  loved  to  watch  the  stars  come  out  in  the 
evening.  At  first  only  two  or  three  of  the  biggest, 
bravest  ones  peeped  forth,  to  see  if  the  sun  had 
gone.  Then  a  few  others  looked  timidly  out. 
Yes,  the  sun  was  really  gone,  and  his  glory  of  red 
and  gold  was  quickly  following  him. 

Then  troops  of  little  stars  burst  from  their  hiding 
places.  They  twinkled  merrily  at  the  little  Pil 
grims,  as  if  to  say,  "See  we  are  going  with  you  to 
your  new  home.  We  went  with  you  to  Holland ;  we 
will  go  with  you  to  America.  Do  not  be  lonely." 

But  it  grew  colder,  for  the  winter  was  drawing 
near.  Many  days  the  deck  was  too  cold  and  icy 
to  play  upon.  Then  the  children  must  stay  in 
the  dark,  crowded  cabin. 

Poor  little  Pilgrims!  Many  were  ill,  and  all 
wished  the  long  voyage  ended.  There  were  but 
few  games  they  could  play  in  the  little  cabin,  and 


Water  Babies  gj 

they  had  no  toys  or  story  books.  How  they 
longed  for  the  green  fields  and  shady  woods! 

Then  Priscilla  told  them  stories  of  the  sunny 
land  where  she  once  lived.  Did  only  pleasant 
things  happen  in  that  wonderful  country?  If 
there  were  any  unhappy  times  there,  Priscilla 
never  spoke  of  them.  The  stories  she  told  were 
such  merry  tales  they  brought  sunshine  into  the 
gloomiest  little  faces. 

Even  tired  mothers,  who  were  too  far  away  to 
hear  the  story,  would  smile  as  they  looked  into 
Priscilla's  laughing  eyes.  "What  a  comfort  that 
child  is,"  they  often  said. 

Then  Mary  Chilton,  who  had  grown  to  be  a 
large  girl  now,  played  games  with  them.  John 
Alden  whittled  out  a  wonderful  puzzle  for  them, 
and  every  one  tried  to  make  the  voyage  pleasant. 

But  nine  weeks  is  a  long  time  to  be  shut  up  on  a 
boat,  and  be  tossed  about  by  the  rough  waves. 
The  little  ones  were  so  tired,  it  seemed  to  them 
they  could  no*  stand  it  any  longer. 

Then  what  do  you  think  happened  away  out 
there  on  the  ocean?  Two  dear  little  baby  boys 
were  born.  Oh,  how  happy  the  children  were! 
They  forgot  to  be  tired  then. 

You  may  be  sure  those  babies  never  lacked 
nurses.  It  was  such  fun  to  hold  them  and  sing 
to  them  softly  until  they  closed  their  eyes  and  went 
to  sleep. 


g8  Pilgrim  Stories 

Of  course,  every  one  wanted  to  help  name  the 
babies.  Each  thought  of  the  very  best  name  he 
knew,  but  it  was  hard  to  suit  all. 

Giles  Hopkins  wished  to  name  his  baby  brother 
Jan,  after  a  friend  in  Holland,  but  that  name  did 


"Those  babies  never  lacked  nurses" 

not  suit  his  parents  at  all.  They  did  not  want  to 
give  their  baby  a  Dutch  name. 

Mistress  Hopkins  thought  he  should  be  named 
Stephen  for  his  father. 

"No,"  said  Master  Hopkins,  "if  he  were  given 
my  name  he  would  be  called  'little  Stephen'  until 


Water  Babies  gg 

he  grew  to  be  a  man.  I  believe  no  child  was  ever 
born  here  before.  I  wish  he  might  have  a  name 
no  other  has  ever  had." 

What  could  it  be  ?  Some  spoke  of ' '  Mayflower, ' ' 
but  others  thought  that  a  better  name  for  a  little 
girl. 

A  week  passed  and  still  the  baby  was  not 
named.  "This  will  never  do,"  said  his  mother. 
"Constance,  you  have  not  said  what  you  would 
like  to  name  your  little  brother." 

Constance  said  she  had  been  thinking  "Ocean" 
would  be  a  good  name  for  this  baby. 

"Ocean! — Ocean!"  whispered  the  mother  to 
herself.  It  was  certainly  a  very  suitable  name, 
but  it  had  a  queer  sound.  Surely  no  other  child 
had  ever  borne  that  name. 

When  Elder  Brewster  heard  about  the  new 
name  he  said,  "I  know  of  a  word  in  another 
language  which  means  ocean.  It  is  Oceanus. 
Perhaps  you  would  like  that  name  better." 

"Oceanus !"  That  seems  like  a  queer  name  for  a 
child,  but  the  Pilgrims  often  gave  their  children 
names  which  seem  strange  to  us.  This  did  not 
sound  so  strange  to  them.  They  thought ' '  Oceanus 
Hopkins"  a  very  good  name  for  the  baby,  and  so  it 
was  decided. 

Then  came  the  other  wee  baby.  He  too  must 
have  a  suitable  name.  What  should  it  be? 

After  many  names  had  been  considered,  Mary 


ioo  Pilgrim  Stories 

Allerton  said  she  thought  "Wandering"  would  be 
a  good  name  for  the  baby,  because  the  Pilgrims 
were  wandering  in  search  of  a  home. 

Mistress  White  did  not  quite  like  "Wandering" 
for  a  name,  but  she  asked  Elder  Brewster  if  he 
did  not  know  another  word  which  meant  the 
same  thing. 

And  so  this  baby  was  named  "Peregrine." 
Peregrine  White  and  Oceanus  Hopkins!  "Those 
are  very  large  names  for  such  very  tiny  babies," 
thought  little  Love  Brewster. 


LAND 

IT  was  now  nine  weeks  since  the  Pilgrims 
sailed  from  England.  No  one  had  thought 
the  voyage  would  be  so  long.  The  captain 
felt  sure  they  must  be  coming  near  land,  but  he 
could  not  tell  just  where  they  were. 

Many  times  a  day,  a  sailor  climbed  high  up  on 
the  mast  to  look  for  land.  Still  there  was  nothing 
to  be  seen  but  the  wide  sea, — not  an  island,  nor 
even  a  ship. 

At  daybreak  one  cold  November  morning,  a 
glad  shout  rang  through  the  ship.  "Land! 
Land!" 

Yes,  there  lay  the  land — that  new  land  which 
was  to  be  their  home  and  ours. 

There  were  no  rocky  cliffs  like  those  of  England. 
Before  them  rose  tall,  green  pine  trees,  and  great 
oaks  still  wearing  their  dress  of  reddish  brown. 

Not  a  town  or  a  single  house  could  they  see. 
No  smoke  rose  from  the  forest  to  tell  them  where 
a  village  lay  hidden.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  but 
the  whistling  of  the  cold  wind  through  the  ropes 
and  masts,  and  the  lapping  of  the  water  about  the 
boat. 

"This  is  not  the  sunny  southland  we  had  hoped 
to  find,"  said  their  governor,  John  Carver.  "The 
storms  have  driven  us  too  far  north  for  that." 


101 


102  Pilgrim  Stories 

"No,  this  is  not  the  sunny  southland,  but  land 
of  any  sort  is  a  joyful  sight  after  our  long  voyage," 
replied  Elder  Brewster.  "Let  us  not  forget  to 
thank  God,  who  has  brought  us  safe  to  this  new 
land." 

It  was  too  near  winter  to  sail  farther  south. 
Near  by  the  Pilgrims  must  find  the  best  place  to 
make  their  home.  So  the  little  ship  sailed  into 
the  quiet  bay  and  dropped  anchor.  Perhaps  it, 
too,  was  glad  the  long  voyage  was  ended. 

The  water  in  the  bay  was  so  shallow  that  the 
ship  could  not  reach  the  shore.  So  the  men 
quickly  lowered  the  small  boat  the  "Mayflower" 
carried.  Then  Miles  Standish,  William  Bradford, 
John  Alden,  and  several  of  the  others  climbed 
down  the  rope  ladder  into  their  boat  and  rowed 
away.  They  carried  their  guns  and  axes,  and  had 
an  empty  keg  which  they  hoped  to  fill  with  fresh 
water.  That  which  they  brought  from  England 
was  almost  gone,  and  all  were  thirsty  for  a  drink  of 
cold,  fresh  water. 

The  sun  had  gone  under  a  cloud,  and  the  wind 
was  wild  and  cold.  The  icy  water  dashed  over 
the  hands  of  the  men  as  they  rowed.  When 
they  reached  the  shore,  they  pulled  the  boat  upon 
the  sand  that  it  might  not  drift  away 

"I  think  two  or  three  would  better  stay  near 
the  boat  while  the  others  go  into  the  forest," 
said  Captain  Standish.  "We  should  be  in  a  sad 


Land  103 

plight  if  savages  were  to  steal  our  boat  while  we 
are  all  gone." 

So  John  Alden  and  William  Bradford  stayed 
near  the  boat.  Floating  on  the  shallow  water, 
or  flying  through  the  air,  were  hundreds  of  wild 
fowl.  The  Pilgrims  had  not  tasted  fresh  meat 
since  they  left  England.  What  a  treat  some  of 
these  wild  birds  would  be ! 

The  two  men  knelt  behind  their  boat  and  kept 
very  still.  After  a  while  the  birds  came  near  to 
the  boat.  Bang!  Bang!  flashed  the  guns,  and 
bang! — bang! — bang!  rang  the  echo. 

Away  flew  the  birds,  but  John  ran  along  the 
shore,  and  waded  into  the  water,  picking  up  the 
ducks  they  had  killed.  "We  will  have  a  supper 
fit  for  a  king,  to-night,"  said  John  to  himself,  as  he 
carried  the  birds  back  to  the  boat. 

Then  they  built  a  fire  of  dry  branches,  to  warm 
their  stiffened  fingers  and  dry  their  clothes. 
When  the  wood  was  all  ablaze  they  piled  green 
pine  branches  upon  the  fire.  There  was  a  sharp, 
crackling  sound,  and  a  cloud  of  black  smoke 
arose. 

"If  the  men  get  lost  in  the  forest  they  will  see 
this  smoke  and  know  which  way  to  go,"  thought 
Bradford,  as  he  piled  on  the  sweet-smelling  pine. 

Then  they  cut  some  dry  wood  to  carry  back  to 
the  "Mayflower,"  for  the  fuel  was  all  gone,  and 
the  cabin  was  very  cold.  In  the  bottom  of  the 


104  Pilgrim  Stories 

boat  was  a  pile  of  clams  which  the  men  had  dug 
from  the  sand. 

It  was  almost  night  when  Captain  Standish 
and  his  men  came  out  of  the  forest.  They  carried 
some  rabbits,  and  their  keg  was  full  of  fresh 
water  which  they  had  found  not  far  from  the 
shore. 

All  day  they  had  not  seen  a  house  or  a  person. 
When  they  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  one  man 
took  a  glass  and  climbed  a  tall  pine  tree.  He 
was  surprised  to  see  that  the  ocean  lay  on  both 
sides  of  the  forest.  The  land  seemed  like  a  long 
arm  stretched  into  the  sea. 

This  was  not  a  good  place  to  make  their  home. 
The  harbor  was  too  shallow  and  there  were  no 
rivers  or  large  brooks  where  they  could  always 
get  fresh  water.  The  little  ponds  they  had  found 
would  dry  up  in  the  summer. 

The  next  day  was  the  Sabbath.  They  would 
spend  it  quietly  on  the  ship,  and  on  Monday 
perhaps  they  could  look  farther. 


THE  FIRST  WASHING  DAY  IN  NEW 
ENGLAND 

IT  was  Monday  morning,  and  the  sun  was 
brighter  and  the  weather  more  mild  than  in 
weeks  before. 

The  children  gazed  eagerly  toward  the  shore 
and  thought  what  fun  it  would  be  to  have  a 
long  run  on  that  smooth,  sandy  beach,  or  to 
hunt  for  nuts  in  those  great  woods.  They  were 
so  tired  of  being  on  the  ship. 

Just  then  Mistress  Brewster  came  upon  the  deck. 
She  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand  and  looked  off 
across  the  water.  "What  a  good  place  to  do  our 
washing!"  she  said,  as  she  gazed  at  the  shore. 
"Not  one  proper  washing  day  have  we  had  since 
we  sailed  " 

It  did  not  take  long  to  get  tubs,  pails,  and 
everything  ready.  John  Alden  and  John  Howland 
loaded  the  things  into  the  boat  and  rowed  the 
merry  party  to  the  shore. 

But  Mistress  Brewster  did  not  forget  the  children, 
who  looked  longingly  at  the  boat  as  it  pulled 
away.  When  it  came  back  for  its  next  load,  she 
said  kindly,  "Come,  boys.  You  shall  have  your 
run  on  the  beach.  We  need  your  quick  feet  and 
strong  arms  to  bring  brushwood  for  our  fires. 
And  the  girls  must  come  too.  They  can  help 
spread  the  clothes  upon  the  bushes  to  dry." 

105 


io6 


Pilgrim  Stories 


It  seemed  so  good  to  be  on  the  ground  again. 
As  soon  as  the  boat  touched  the  sand  the  children 
sprang  ashore  and  raced  each  other  up  and 
down  the  beach. 

"Let's  hunt  for  nuts  under  those  trees!"  cried 
Love  Brewster,  and  away  the  boys  bounded 


The  first  washing  day  in  New  England 

toward  the  woods.  John  Alden  shouldered  his 
gun  and  went  with  them,  for  it  was  not  safe  for 
them  to  go  into  the  forest  alone. 

In  the  edge  of  the  woods  stood  a  tall,  straight 
tree.  The  long  scales  which  curled  from  its 
shaggy  bark  told  John  Alden  it  was  a  hickory  tree. 


The  First  Washing  Day  in  New  England    107 

Under  the  tree  was  a  thick  carpet  of  yellow-brown 
leaves.  Under  that  carpet  there  must  be  plenty 
of  sweet  nuts. 

The  boys  dragged  their  feet  through  the  deep 
leaves,  or  tossed  them  aside  with  their  hands. 
Yes,  there  lay  the  white  nuts,  thousands  and 
thousands  of  them.  The  frost  had  opened  their 
tough,  brown  coats,  but  the  tree  had  covered 
them  with  a  blanket  of  leaves. 

While  the  boys  were  gone,  the  men  drove  two 
forked  stakes  into  the  hard  sand.  Across  the  top 
of  these  stakes  they  placed  a  long  pole  from  which 
to  hang  the  great  kettles. 

Soon  the  fire  was  snapping  and  crackling  under 
the  kettles.  The  flames  leaped  higher  and  higher 
as  the  children  piled  dry  leaves  and  branches  upon 
them.  Then  the  water  began  to  simmer  and  sing. 

All  the  morning  the  women  rubbed  and  boiled, 
or  rinsed  and  wrung  the  clothes.  The  men  were 
kept  busy  carrying  water  and  firewood 

By  noon  the  tubs  were  empty,  and  as  Mary 
Chilton  spread  the  last  little  dress  to  dry,  she  saw 
the  boat  pull  away  from  the  "Mayflower." 

"Here  comes  Priscilla  with  our  dinner!"  she 
cried. 

Priscilla  was  a  wonderful  cook.  Sometimes 
there  was  but  little  to  cook,  but  Priscilla  could 
always  make  something  dainty  and  good  from 
the  plainest  food. 


io8 


Pilgrim  Stories 


To-day  she  had  made  a  great  kettle  of  soup, 
with  vegetables  and  the  broth  of  the  wild  birds. 
How  good  it  smelled  as  it  heated  over  the  fire ! 


"Here  comes  Priscilla  with  our  dinner" 

Long  before  night  the  clean,  fresh  clothes  were 
dry  and  folded  away  in  the  tubs  and  kettles. 
Then  the  tired  but  happy  Pilgrims  rowed  back 
to  the  "Mayflower." 


A  WILD  LAND 

THE  next  day  some  of  the  Pilgrims  sailed 
along    the    shore    for    several    miles,    still 
looking   for  a  deep,   safe    harbor   and  a 
stream  of  clear  water. 

At  last  they  noticed  a  little  brook,  and  turned 
their  boat  toward  the  shore.  Leaving  four  men 
to  guard  the  boat,  the  others  struck  into  the  forest. 
Not  a  sound  did  they  hear  but  the  rustling  of 
dry  leaves  as  they  walked  through  them,  or 
the  moaning  of  the  wind  in  the  tree  tops.  The 
November  woods  seemed  very  bare  and  lonely. 

When  they  had  gone  a  mile  or  two,  they  saw  a 
large  deer  drinking  at  a  brook.  They  stood  still 
and  watched  him,  but  the  deer  had  heard  their 
step.  He  raised  his  beautiful  head  and  listened 
a  moment,  then  bounded  swiftly  into  the  forest. 

But  William  Bradford  was  not  watching  the 
deer.  His  sharp  eyes  had  seen  something  mov 
ing  on  the  hilltop  not  far  away.  As  he  gazed  he 
saw,  first  the  head  and  shoulders,  and  then  the 
whole  body  of  a  man  appear  over  the  brow  of  the 
hill.  Then  came  another,  and  another.  Could  it  be 
John  Alden  and  the  others  had  left  the  boat  and 
come  after  them  ?  Surely  they  would  not  disobey 
the  captain,  for  Miles  Standish  had  told  them  not 
to  leave  the  boat  lest  the  savages  take  it. 

109 


no  Pilgrim  Stories 

But  now  he  could  see  their  dark  faces,  and  their 
long,  black  hair  and  eagle  feathers. 

"Look!"  he  whispered,   "Indians!  Indians!" 

' '  Perhaps  that  means  work  for '  Gideon, ' ' '  thought 
Captain  Standish,  as  he  seized  his  sword. 

"Put  away  your  sword,  Captain,"  said  Governor 
Carver,  gently.  "We  want  to  make  friends  of 
these  people  if  we  can.  Perhaps  they  can  tell  us 
of  some  town  or  settlement.  At  least  we  may  be 
able  to  buy  some  food  from  them." 

So  the  Pilgrims  waited  quietly  in  the  shadows 
of  the  forest  until  the  Indians  came  near.  Down 
the  hill  they  came,  their  quick  eyes  looking  for  the 
print  of  a  deer  in  the  soft  earth. 

When  they  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill  they  saw 
tracks  which  had  been  made  by  no  animal  of  the 
forest.  Neither  had  they  been  made  by  an 
Indian's  moccasin.  There  seemed  to  be  hundreds 
of  these -tracks.  What  could  it  mean?  They  stood 
close"  together  and  peered  eagerly  into  the  forest. 

Then  the  Pilgrims  stepped  from  behind  the 
trees,  and  came  toward  them.  John  Carver,  the 
governor,  held  out  to  them  some  strings  of  bright 
beads,  but  the  Indians  would  have  none  of  them. 

For  a  moment  they  gazed  at  the  white  men  in 
terror.  Then,  without  stopping  to  fit  an  arrow 
to  their  bow  strings,  they  fled. 

Where  had  they  gone?  Had  the  earth  opened 
and  taken  in  her  frightened  children?  Only 


A  Wild  Lcmd 


an  Indian  knows  how  to  disappear  so  quickly. 

"Ugh!"  they  said,  when  they  were  safe  away. 
"Ugh!  Palefaces  have  come! 

The  Pilgrims  followed  the  Indians  for  ten  miles, 
but  they  did  not  come  within  sight  of  the  savages 
again  all  that  day,  though  they  often  saw  the 
print  of  their  feet. 


"They  saw  tracks  which  had  been  made 
by  no  animal  of  the  forest" 

Sometimes  these  footprints  showed  where  the 
Indians  had  climbed  a  hill  to  watch  the  white  men. 


172  Pilgrim  Stories 

When  night  came,  the  men  found  a  sheltered 
place  to  camp  until  morning.  They  built  a  fire, 
and  while  two  watched,  the  others  slept. 

In  the  morning  they  marched  on  again,  going 
farther  south.  They  saw  fields  where  corn  had 
been  raised,  but  not  an  Indian,  or  a  house  of  any 
kind.  No  doubt  the  Indians  saw  them  very 
often,  and  knew  just  where  they  were  all  the  time. 

A  little  later  in  the  day  the  Pilgrims  came  to 
some  strange  looking  houses.  They  were  round 
and  low,  with  a  small  opening  for  a  door;  a  hole 
in  the  top  served  for  a  chimney. 

The  men  went  from  one  house  to  another  but 
could  find  no  one.  They  knelt  down  and  crawled 
into  the  wigwams,  but  there  the  fires  had  burned 
out  many  days  before. 

In  the  wigwams  they  found  earthen  pots  and 
dishes,  wooden  bowls,  and  beautiful  baskets  made 
of  grasses  and  trimmed  with  shells.  Now  they 
could  see  that  the  framework  of  the  wigwam  was 
made  of  long  willow  branches  with  both  ends 
stuck  into  the  ground.  Over  the  frame  the 
Indians  had  fastened  large  mats  of  woven  reeds, 
which  kept  out  the  cold  and  rain.  From  the 
inside  the  wigwam  looked  like  a  great  open 
umbrella.  >> 

"What  is  this?"  cried  one  of  the  men,  as  he  came 
upon  a  little  mound  of  earth  near  the  Indian 
village. 


A  Wild  Land 


"Perhaps  it  is  an  Indian  grave,"  replied  another. 

"No,  it  is  too  wide  and  round  for  that.  We  will 
open  it  and  see  what  is  buried  here." 

So  they  dug  away  the  earth  and  found  a  large 
basket.  It  was  round  and  narrow  at  the  top,  and 
was  covered  with  large  leaves.  After  a  good  deal 


"They  knelt  down  and  crawled  into  the  wigwams" 

of  trouble  the  basket  was  raised  from  the  hole  and 
opened.     It  was  filled  to  the  brim  with  corn,  some 
white,  some  red,  and  some  of  a  bluish  color. 
This  was   Indian  corn.     It  did   not  grow  in 


Pilgrim  Stories 

England  or  Holland  then,  and  the  Pilgrims  had 
never  seen  grain  like  it  before.  It  tasted  very 
good,  and  the  Pilgrims  were  much  in  need  of  food. 
The  provisions  which  they  had  brought  from 
England  were  almost  gone. 

So  finally  they  decided  to  take  back  to  the 
"Mayflower"  as  much  corn  as  they  could  carry, 
and  pay  the  Indians  for  it  when  they  could. 

Soon  they  had  dug  up  about  ten  bushels  of  corn. 
Then  they  went  to  the  shore  and  built  a  fire  as  a 
signal  for  the  boat  to  come  for  them  and  take 
them  back  to  the  "Mavflower." 


A  NARROW  ESCAPE 

WHILE  the  men  were  away  with  the  boat 
the  children  could  not  go  to  the  shore  to 
play.  They  had  to  amuse  themselves 
on  the  ship  as  well  as  they  could. 

This  was  not  hard  for  little  Francis  Billington 
to  do,  but  his  amusements  never  seemed  to  please 
the  older  people.  If  he  started  to  cut  his  name 
on  the  railing  of  the  ship,  some  one  was  sure  to 
call,  "Don't  do  that!" 

If  he  tried  to  climb  the  ropes  from  the  mast, 
somebody  always  dragged  him  down.  Even  when 
he  sat  down  quietly  to  hold  one  of  the  babies,  it 
was  always,  ''Francis!  See  how  you  let  his  head 
hang  down,"  or,  "Just  look  at  that  baby's  little 
feet!  Francis,  you  must  keep  them  covered." 
Then  some  one  would  come  and  say,  "Let  me  take 
the  baby.  I  am  so  afraid  you  will  drop  him." 

Poor  little  Francis!  He  did  not  mean  to  be 
naughty,  but  he  was  a  great  trial  to  the  Pilgrim 
mothers  and  fathers.  When  he  was  quiet  for  a 
few  minutes,  they  felt  sure  he  must  be  in  some 
mischief — and  they  were  usually  right. 

"Francis  is  not  a  bad  boy,"  Elder  Brewster  used 
to  say.  "Just  wait  until  his  father  begins  to 
build  his  house,  then  Francis  will  be  too  busy  to 
get  into  mischief.  I  believe  there  will  not  be  a 

"5 


n6  Pilgrim  Stories 

harder- working  boy  in  the  village  than  Francis.." 

"Then  let  us  hurry  and  find  a  place  to  build," 
said  Mistress  Billington,  "for  I  am  almost  worn 
out." 

While  his  father  and  the  other  men  were  away 
digging  up  corn  in  the  Indian  village,  mischief- 
loving  Francis  was  wandering  about  the  boat 
looking  for  amusement. 

In  his  hands  he  held  some  of  the  pretty  feathers 
of  the  wild  duck.  He  thought  what  fun  it  would 
be  to  fill  these  quills  with  gunpowder  and  make 
some  firecrackers.  He  called  them  squibs. 

So  he  went  down  to  the  cabin  where  the  powder 
was  stored.  There  was  no  one  in  the  room,  but 
he  soon  found  a  keg  which  had  been  opened,  and 
he  began  to  fill  his  squibs.  It  was  hard  to  make 
the  powder  go  into  the  little  quills;  most  of  it 
went  on  the  floor  instead. 

When  the  squibs  were  filled,  he  looked  about 
and  saw  several  old  muskets  hanging  upon  the 
wall.  "How  those  women  in  the  next  room 
would  jump  if  I  should  fire  off  one  of  those 
muskets!"  thought  the  boy. 

Muskets  made  in  those  days  could  not  be 
fired  by  pulling  a  trigger.  The  powder  must  be 
lighted  by  a  spark  of  fire.  At  that  time  no  one 
had  learned  how  to  make  matches,-  either.  But 
Francis  knew  where  to  find  a  slow-burning  fuse 
made  of  candlewick,  and  away  he  ran  to  get  it. 


A  Narrow  Escape  117 

Soon  he  returned,  carrying  the  burning  fuse 
right  into  the  powder  room. 

Oh,  Francis!  Think  of  the  powder  upon  the 
floor.  And  think  of  that  open  keg  half  filled  with 
the  deadly  powder.  If  one  little  spark  should 
reach  it,  the  ship  and  every  one  on  it  would  be 
blown  to  pieces. 

But  Francis  never  stopped  to  think  twice  about 
anything.  He  climbed  upon  a  box  and  took 
down  an  old  musket,  then  looked  to  see  if  it  were 
loaded.  Yes,  it  was  all  ready  to  fire,  and  Francis 
knew  how  to  do  it. 

I  think  the  very  sun  must  almost  have  had  a 
chill  when  he  peeped  through  the  tiny  window  and 
saw  the  terrible  danger. 

Boom!  roared  the  old  musket.  Then  came  a 
blinding  flash,  and  boom !  Bang !  Snap !  Crack ! 
Bang!  Oh,  what  a  deafening  din! 

When  the  thick  smoke  had  cleared  a  little,  a 
very  angry  sailor  found  a  very  frightened  boy  in 
a  corner  of  the  cabin.  Francis  did  not  know  how 
he  came  to  be  lying  there  in  a  heap.  He  only 
knew  that  his  eyes  were  smarting  and  his  hands 
were  very  sore. 

Women  with  white  faces  and  trembling  hands 
tried  to  comfort  their  screaming  children.  Sailors 
hurried  to  and  fro  looking  for  leaks  in  the  boat. 

But,  wonder  of  wonders,  no  great  harm  had  been 
done.  The  squibs  were  gone ;  two  or  three  of  the 


n8  Pilgrim  Stories 

loaded  muskets  had  gone  off;  but  the  powder  on 
the  floor  had  flashed  up  and  burned  out  without 
setting  fire  to  the  keg. 

"If  that  keg  had  exploded,  we  should  have  found 
no  more  of  the  'Mayflower'  than  a  few  chips  float 
ing  upon  the  water,"  said  Miles  Standish,  when  he 
heard  of  it.  "I  wonder  that  it  escaped." 

"It  was  the  mercy  of  God  alone,"  said  the 
Pilgrims. 


A   SAVAGE    PEOPLE 

IT  grew  colder  and  colder  every  day,  but  still 
the  Pilgrims  had  not  found  a  good  place  to 
build  their  homes. 

So  Governor  Carver,  William  Bradford,  Captain 
Standish,  and  others  again  sailed  away  in  their 
boat.  They  carried  guns  and  axes,  blankets,  and 
food  enough  to  last  them  many  days. 

It  was  December  now,  and  the  bay  was  full  of 
ice.  The  driving  snow  and  sleet  cut  their  faces  and 
froze  on  their  clothing.  Some  of  the  men  nearly 
died  of  the  cold. 

Every  day  they  went  ashore  to  see  if  there  was  a 
good  place  to  settle.  There  were  so  many  things 
to  be  thought  of. 

They  must  find  a  place  near  the  woods  so  they 
could  get  logs  for  their  houses  and  wood  for  their 
fires.  Yet  the  forest  must  not  be  too  near,  for 
they  must  have  a  clear  space  in  which  to  plant 
their  grain. 

There  must  be  a  deep,  safe  harbor,  and  above 
all,  a  stream  of  clear,  fresh  water. 

They  landed  again  and  again,  but  it  was  hard 
to  find  a  place  which  had  all  these  things.  They 
would  search  all  day  and  at  night  make  a  camp 
in  the  forest. 

One  night  after  a  hard  day's  tramp,  they  built 


120  Pilgrim  Stories 

a  great  fire  and  cooked  their  supper.  They  could 
get  plenty  of  fresh  meat  in  the  forest,  and  they 
had  brought  bread,  beans,  and  dried  peas  from  the 
ship. 

After  they  had  eaten  their  supper  and  had 
prayers,  all  went  to  sleep  except  the  two  men  who 
were  to  watch. 

The  light  from  the  flames  fell  upon  the  tired 
faces  of  the  men  as  they  lay  in  a  circle  about  the 
fire.  It  touched  lightly  the  trunks  of  the  tall 
trees,  and  stretched  long,  dark  shadows  across 
the  hard  frozen  ground. 

Sometimes  they  saw  shining  eyes  peering  at 
them  from  the  darkness,  but  the  animals  were  all 
afraid  of  the  fire  and  soon  slunk  away. 

About  midnight  the  watchmen  heard  a  long, 
loud  cry  in  the  distance.  It  sounded  like  the  yell 
of  Indians. 

"To  arms!     To  arms!"  they  cried. 

The  Pilgrims  sprang  to  their  feet  and  seized 
their  guns.  A  long  time  they  waited  and  listened, 
but  no  Indians  came.  "Perhaps  it  was  only  the 
howl  of  wolves  or  foxes,"  said  the  men,  as  they 
lay  down  again. 

The  Pilgrims  were  up  before  the  sun,  next 
morning,  cooking  their  breakfast  and  preparing  to 
sail  farther  along  the  shore.  While  some  cooked 
the  meal,  others  carried  blankets  and  guns  down 
to  the  boat. 


A  Savage  People  121 

While  they  were  sitting  about  the  fire  eating  their 
breakfast,  they  heard  a  frightful  sound  near  by. 

"Woach!  Woach!  Ha!  Ha!  Woach!"  came 
the  cry. 

The  Pilgrims  sprang  to  the  boat  for  their  guns. 
They  fired  several  shots  into  the  forest  thinking 
to  frighten  the  Indians,  but  on  they  came. 

Nearer  and  nearer  sounded  the  cry.  "Woach! 
Woach!  Ha!  Ha!  Woach!" 

In  the  faint  morning  light. the  Pilgrims  saw  the 
forms  of  many  savages  slipping  from  tree  to  tree. 
Then  whiz!  whir!  whir!  sounded  the  arrows,  as 
they  flew  thick  and  fast.  Two  of  them  stuck  in 
John  Howland's  coat,  and  one  struck  Captain 
Standish  above  the  heart,  but  he  had  his  armor 
on  and  the  arrow  did  no  harm. 

The  Pilgrims  quickly  sprang  away  from  the 
light  of  the  fire.  They  tried  to  protect  themselves 
in  the  dark  shadows  of  the  forest. 

Whiz-z-z !  Whir-r-r-r !  The  arrows  were  flying 
from  every  direction,  but  not  an  Indian  was  to  be 
seen.  They,  too,  were  well  hidden  behind  trees 
and  bushes. 

The  Pilgrims  kept  very  still.  Then  the  Indians 
grew  bolder.  They  crept  silently  toward  the 
camp,  their  dark  forms  looking  like  dim  shadows 
in  the  forest. 

This  was  just  what  the  Pilgrims  were  waiting 
for.  Bang!  Boom!  roared  the  muskets.  One 


722  Pilgrim  Stories 

of  the  bullets  struck  the  Indian  chief  in  the  arm. 
He  could  not  draw  his  bow  again.  With  an  angry 
yell  the  savages  fled  into  the  forest. 

The  Pilgrims  followed  them  a  short  distance, 
shouting  and  firing  their  muskets.  When  they 
returned  to  the  camp,  they  picked  up  many  arrows. 
Some  were  pointed  with  a  sharp  bit  of  deerhorn, 
and  some  with  eagles'  claws.  These  arrows  the 
Pilgrims  sent  to  England  when  the  "Mayflower" 
returned. 


PLYMOUTH  BAY 

A  STORM  of  wind  and  snow  came  up  as  the 
Pilgrims    sailed    along    near    the    shore. 
The  sea  was   very  rough,   and  the  boat 
seemed  in  danger  of  being  upset  by  the  waves 
which  tossed  it  from  side  to  side.     The  rudder 
was  broken,   and  the   mast   was   split   in   three 
pieces  by  the  heavy  wind. 

It  was  growing  dark,  and  the  men  rowed  hard 
to  reach  the  bay  which  they  could  see  ahead. 


The  "Mayflower"  in  Plymouth  Harbor 

There  was  an  island  near  the  mouth  of  the  bay, 
where  they  hoped  to  land,  but  when  they  came 
near  it,  the  night  was  so  dark  they  could  not  see 
to  steer  between  the  great  rocks  along  the  shore. 

As  the  storm  grew  worse  the  waves  rose  higher 
and  higher.  Through  the  darkness  the  men  could 
sometimes  see  a  flash  of  white  foam  which  showed 
where  the  waves  were  breaking  over  the  rocks. 

The  wind  and  water  swept  them  on,  and  now 
the  giant  stones  rose  close  on  every  side.  Again 

123 


124  Pilgrim  Stories 

a  great  wave  lifted  the  little  vessel  high  upon  its 
crest;  every  moment  the  men  expected  to  be 
dashed  against  the  cruel  rocks.  They  grasped 
the  sides  of  the -boat  and  waited  for  the  crash 
which  would  probably  end  life  for  them  all. 

Yet  the  boat  was  not  dashed  to  pieces.  When 
the  wave  rolled  back  into  the  sea  it  left  the  vessel 
upon  a  bit  of  sandy  beach  between  the  rocks.  The 
moment  the  men  felt  the  boat  touch  the  sand  they 
leaped  out  and  pulled  it  high  upon  the  shore  out 
of  reach  of  the  waves. 

The  men  gathered  brushwood  and,  in  the  shelter 
of  a  great  rock,  built  a  roaring  fire  and  camped 
for  the  night.  Before  they  slept  the  Pilgrims  knelt 
upon  the  ground  and  gave  thanks  to  God  for  guid 
ing  them  through  the  storm  and  darkness.  Then 
they  repeated  a  beautiful  old  song  from  the  Bible, 
beginning: 

"O.  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  for  He  is  good; 
for  His  mercy  endureth  for  ever."* 

The  next  morning  the  Pilgrims  walked  about 
the  island,  but  they  found  no  houses  or  people 
there.  They  climbed  the  hill  to  a  great  rock  from 
which  they  could  see  all  over  the  island.  There 
were  woods,  ponds,  and  little  streams,  but  no 
fields,  nor  any  signs  of  life. 

The  island  was  not  large  enough  to  be  a  good 
place  for  their  settlement.  There  would  not  be 

"Read  selections  from  Psalm  CVII. 


Plymouth   Bay  125 

wood  or  game  enough  on  it  to  last  many  years,  and 
they  needed  more  land  for  their  farms. 

The  Pilgrims  looked  about  for  a  tall,  straight 
tree  from  which  to  make  a  new  mast  for  their  boat, 
and  soon  the  chips  were  flying  from  a  fine  young 
cedar,  as  the  men  stripped  off  its  branches  and 
bark.  When  the  new  mast  was  in  place  and  the 
rudder  repaired,  the  boat  was  ready  for  another 
journey. 

But  the  next  day  was  Sunday,  so  the  Pilgrims 
rested  quietly  on  the  island. 

When  Monday  morning  dawned  the  sea  was  still 
rough,  but  in  the  bay  the  water  was  smooth  and 
blue.  As  they  sailed  slowly  along  near  the  shore, 
the  Pilgrims  sometimes  stopped  to  measure  the 
depth  of  the  water.  Here  it  was  deep  enough 
to  float  the  largest  ships. 

One  large  rock  lay  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  and 
the  men  rowed  the  boat  to  it.  They  stepped  out 
upon  the  rock  and  looked  eagerly  about  them. 

There  was  space  enough  on  that  sunny  hillside 
for  all  their  fields.  At  the  foot  of  the  hill  flowed 
a  brook  of  clear,  sweet  water. 

After  drinking  from  the  brook  the  men  walked 
up  the  hill  to  the  woods.  From  the  top  of  the 
hill  they  could  see  a  long  distance  up  and  down 
the  shore. 

"If  we  build  our  village  here,  this  high  hill  will 
be  just  the  place  for  our  fort,"  said  Miles  Standish. 


126  Pilgrim  Stories 

The  Pilgrims  thought  the  matter  over  carefully, 
for  there  must  be  no  mistake  in  choosing  a  place 
to  settle. 

Here  were  a  deep,  safe  harbor  and  plenty  of 
running  water.  The  earth  seemed  to  be  rich  and 
free  from  stones  and  stumps.  It  looked  as  though 
the  Indians  had  once  raised  corn  here.  Perhaps 
they  had  cleared  the  land. 

Since  the  forest  was  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  it 
would  not  be  hard  to  get  logs  for  their  houses. 
What  better  place  could  they  find  ? 

So  the  men  sailed  back  to  the  "Mayflower" 
to  tell  the  other  Pilgrims  the  good  news.  How 
glad  they  were  to  know  that  a  good  place  had 
been  found  for  their  homes ! 

"If  I  am  not  mistaken,"  said  Governor  Carver, 
"the  little  bay  where  we  landed  has  been  called 
Plymouth  Bay." 

The  Pilgrims  decided  they  would  keep  the  name. 
It  would  remind  them  of  the  town  of  Plymouth 
in  England,  -where  many  of  them  had  friends. 

The  Pilgrims  were  eager  to  begin  their  houses 
at  once,  so  the  "Mayflower"  sailed  into  the  deep, 
quiet  waters  of  Plymouth  Bay.  When  it  was 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  the  shore,  it  could  go  no 
farther,  and  the  smaller  boat  was  made  ready  to 
carry  them  to  the  land. 

The  men  were  not  the  only  ones  to  go.  Several 
of  the  women  wished  to  see  the  place  which  had 


Plymouth  Bay  127 

been  chosen  for  their  home.  So  the  boat  carried 
Mistress  Brewster,  Mary  Chilton,  Mistress  Carver, 
and  a  number  of  others  besides  the  men. 

They  rowed  up  to  the  large  rock  by  the  shore. 
It  was  the  only  dry  landing  place  on  the  beach, 
for  the  water  was  very  shallow  there. 

As  the  boat  reached  the  rock,  and  almost  before 
it  came  to  a  standstill,  out  sprang  Mary  Chilton 
upon  this  famous  stone,  saying  with  a  laugh,  "I 
will  be  the  first  woman  to  step  foot  in  our  new 
town."  And  so  she  was. 

The  rock  upon  which  she  stepped  is  still  near 
the  ocean  where  it  was  when  the  Pilgrims  came. 
It  is  called  Plymouth  Rock,  and  each  year  many 
go  to  the  town  of  Plymouth  and  look  at  the  place 
where  the  Pilgrims  landed. 

When  all  had  landed,  Mary  Chilton,  Priscilla, 
and  the  Allerton  girls  tripped  along  the 
beach,  stopping  now  and  then  to  pick  up  a  shell 
or  a  pretty  stone.  As  they  came  near  a  little 
thicket  of  trees  hung  with  wild  grapevines,  Mary 
stopped  to  listen. 

'I  hear  the  sound  of  running  water,"  she  said. 
"There  must  be  a  spring  near  by."  The  girls  all 
stood  still  and  listened  to  the  trickling  water.  It 
was  like  sweet  music  to  their  ears. 

They  hurried  on  and  soon  came  to  a  rocky  nook 
where  the  water  bubbled  and  sang  as  it  escaped 
from  the  dark  earth. 


128  Pilgrim  Stories 

Never  had  water  tasted  so  good,  the  girls 
thought,  as  they  dipped  it  up  in  their  large  shells. 
Not  in  all  the  years  they  lived  in  Holland  had 
they  tasted  water  fresh  from  a  cold  spring. 

"Here  are  some  wild  plum  and  crab  apple 
trees.  What  a  beautiful  spot  this  will  be  next 
May  when  these  trees  are  in  bloom!"  exclaimed 
Remember  Allerton.  Then  the  girls  tried  to 
think  how  this  bleak  hillside  would  look  next  sum 
mer  when  it  would  be  dotted  with  cottages,  and 
the  fields  were  green  with  growing  corn. 

"I  am  afraid  there  will  not  be  any  bright  gardens 
such  as  we  had  in  Leiden,"  said  Priscilla,  "for  I 
doubt  if  there  is  a  flower  seed  on  the  ship." 

"Oh,  yes,  there  is,"  answered  Mary  Chilton. 
"I  thought  about  that  last  summer,  and  gathered 
ever  so  many  seeds.  Each  of  us  can  have  a  little 
flower  bed.  We  will  save  the  seeds  again  and  by 
another  year  we  will  have  enough  to  make  the 
whole  village  gay  with  blossoms." 

A  sharp,  cold  sleet  now  began  to  fall,  and  sum 
mer  and  blossoms  seemed  far  away.  The  women 
hurried  back  to  the  boat,  but  some  of  the  men 
stayed  to  plan  for  the  new  town. 


THE  FIRST  WINTER  IN  PLYMOUTH 

THE  Pilgrims  could  hardly  wait  until  morning 
to  begin  the  town.  It  was  scarcely  daylight 
when  they  loaded  their  axes,  guns,  saws, 
and  hammers  on  the  boat  and  rowed  to  shore. 

"First  we  will  build  a  large  log  house  at  the 
foot  of  the  hill,"  said  Governor  Carver.  "It  will 
be  strong  and  safe,  and  we  can  all  live  there  while 
we  are  building  our  own  houses." 

While  some  measured  the  space  for  the  common- 
house,  others  went  to  the  forest  to  cut  trees.  You 
could  hear  their  axes  ring  from  morning  till  night. 
They  had  no  horses  to  help  them,  and  their  hands 
must  do  all  the  work.  So  they  dragged  and  rolled 
the  logs  from  the  forest. 

John  Howland  called  Giles  Hopkins,  Francis 
and  John  Billington,  Love  Brewster,  and  several 
others.  "Come,  boys,"  he  said,  "bring  your 
sharp  knives  and  we  will  go  to  the  pond  and  cut 
rushes  to  thatch  the  roof." 

William  Bradford  saw  them  start,  and  he 
shouldered  his  gun  and  went  with  them.  If 
Indians  should  come,  one  man  could  not  protect 
so  many  children.  When  they  came  to  the  pond, 
they  cut  the  long  rushes  and  tied  them  in  bundles 
to  carry  back  to  the  men.  Once  they  heard  the 
wild  yell  of  Indians,  and  sometimes  the  howl  of 

1 29 


Pilgrim  Stones 

wolves  in  the  forest,  but  they  did  not  come  near. 

It  was  Christmas  day  when  the  first  logs  were 
cut  and  in  three  weeks  the  common-house  was 
finished.  It  was  a  rough  building,  with  its 
thatched  roof  and  unplastered  walls.  The  win 
dows  were  made  of  oiled  paper  instead  of  glass. 
But  it  was  their  own,  and  the  Pilgrims  felt  very 
happy  when  it  was  done. 

They  made  a  wide  street  from  the  shore 
to  the  top  of  the  hill.  It  was  named  for  their 
old  home  in  Holland  and  is  still  called  Leiden 
Street. 

When  the  common-house  was  finished,  tne 
Pilgrims  began  to  build  their  little  cottages  on 
each  side  of  Leiden  Street.  There  were  nineteen 
families  for  which  to  provide.  John  Alden  was 
to  live  with  Captain  Standish  and  help  him  build 
his  house.  Other  men  who  were  alone  would 
live  with  those  who  had  families. 

The  winter  grew  colder  and  more  bitter.  There 
were  many  days  so  stormy  no  work  could  be  done 
on  the  houses.  Food  was  scarce,  and  every  day 
some  of  the  men  tramped  through  the  deep  snow 
in  search  of  game.  Often  they  returned  nearly 
frozen,  and  with  empty  game  bags. 

The  Pilgrims  were  often  wet  and  cold,  and  they 
did  not  have  proper  food.  Do  you  wonder  that 
many  of  them  became  sick  and  died  ? 

Rose  Standish  was  the   captain's  young  wife. 


The   First  Winter  in  Plymouth  737 

Her  sweet  face  and  gentle,  loving  manner  had 
made  her  very  dear  to  the  Pilgrims.  If  any  were 
homesick  and  lonely,  Rose  seemed  to  know  best 
how  to  cheer  them.  She  was  always  planning 
little  comforts  or  pleasures  for  others. 

But  Rose  was  not  so  strong  and  well  as  the 
others.  Miles  Standish  sighed  as  he  saw  her 
grow  more  weak  and  pale  every  day.  "My  poor 
little  Rose!"  he  said.  *'You  are  too  frail  a  flower 
for  this  rough,  wild  life." 

"I  shall  be  better  when  I  can  leave  the  ship  and 
breathe  the  sweet,  fresh  air  of  the  earth  and 
woods,"  she  said. 

So,  as  soon  as  the  common-house  was  finished, 
Miles  Standish  gently  lifted  Rose  into  the  smaller 
boat  and  took  her  to  the  shore.  He  carried  her 
in  his  strong  arms  to  the  new  log  house  and  laid 
her  upon  a  little  cot. 

The  brave  captain  trembled  with  fear  as  he  saw 
her  flushed  face  and  held  her  fevered  hand.  He 
knew  an  enemy  had  come  which  he  could  not 
conquer. 

A  few  more  days  of  suffering,  and  then  Miles 
Standish  was  left  alone. 

Soon  William  Bradford  became  very  ill,  and 
then  Goodman  White,  Mistress  Allerton,  and 
many  others.  In  the  common-house  were  long 
rows  of  white  cots  where  lay  suffering  men  and 
women. 


Pilgrim  Stories 

At  last  there  came  a  time  when  there  were  but 
seven  well  enough  to  hunt  for  the  food,  care  for 
the  sick,  and  bury  the  dead. 

All  day  Priscilla  moved  quietly  about,  bathing 
fevered  faces,  or  with  cool  hand  rubbing  the  pain 
from  some  aching  head.  Or  she  bent  over  the 
coals  of  the  fire  making  broth  or  toast  for  the 
sick,  or  cooking  for  those  who  nursed  them. 

At  ni'ght  when  only  a  dim  candle  lighted  the 
room,  Doctor  Fuller  or  Miles  Standish  went  from 
bed  to  bed,  giving  a  cool  drink  to  one,  or  turning 
a  heated  pillow  for  another.  Often  a  cup  was 
placed  in  the  hand  of  one  of  the  weary  nurses  and 
Priscilla  would  whisper,  "Drink  this  hot  broth.  It 
will  give  you  strength  to  wait  upon  others." 

If  it  were  their  white-haired  elder  who  was  on 
watch,  she  would  beg  him  to  lie  down  and  rest 
for  an  hour  while  she  took  his  place. 

"No,  no,  Priscilla,"  he  would  say,  "you  can 
not  work  all  day  and  watch  at  night.  Take  your 
rest,  child,  you  need  it  much." 

Then  she  would  go  back  to  her'bed,  stopping  to 
smooth  a  pillow  or  speak  a  cheery  word  to  some 
one  too  ill  to  sleep.  ' 

But  even  tender  nursing  could  not  bring  health 
and  life  to  all.  Every  day  there  was  a  new  grave 
to  be  made  on  Cole's  Hill. 

At  last  came  a  morning  when  Priscilla  could  not 
rise.  She  was  burning  with  fever  and  in  her  sleep 


The  First  Winter  in  Plymouth          133 

talked  of  her  old  home  in  France.  She  thought 
she  was  a  little  girl  playing  with  baby  Joseph. 
She  could  not  even  know  when,  one  by  one,  her 
mother,  father,  and  brother  were  laid  under  the 
snow  on  the  hill. 

The  Pilgrims  were  afraid  to  have  the  Indians 
see  so  many  graves.  Perhaps  they  would  attack 
the  town  if  they  knew  there  were  so  few  of  the 
white  men  left. 

So  late  at  night  a  little  group  of  men  carried 
their  sad  burden  up  the  hill.  When  the  grave 
was  filled,  they  covered  it  over  with  snow  that  the 
Indians  might  not  see  it  so  easily. 

In  a  few  weeks  half  of  the  little  band  of  Pilgrims 
lay  buried  on  Cole's  Hill. 


SAMOSET 

AT  last  spring  came  bringing  health  and 
hope  to  the  Pilgrims.  Again  the  axes  rang 
out  in  the  forest,  and  the  half -built  cottages 
were  soon  finished.  The  snow  melted  from  the 
sunny  hillsides,  and  the  ice  in  the  streams  broke 
away  and  floated  into  the  sea. 

One  morning  the  men  of  Plymouth  met  in  the 
common-house  to  make  plans  for  their  little  army. 
"On  the  top  of  the  hill  we  will  build  a  large,  strong 
fort,  and  mount  our  cannons  upon  it  so  they  will 
point  in  every  direction,"  said  Captain  Miles 
Standish.  "If  the  Indians  make  trouble,  we  will 
bring  the  women  and  children  to  the  fort  for 
safety." 

As  he  spoke  there  was  a  frightened  scream  from 
the  children  at  play  outside.  The  next  moment 
a  tall,  half-naked  Indian  stood  in  the  door  before 
them. 

Three  eagle  feathers  were  braided  into  his  long 
black  hair.  Lines  of  red  and  black  were  painted 
upon  his  face.  In  his  hand  he  carried  a  long  bow, 
and  a  quiver  of  arrows  hung  between  his  bare 
shoulders. 

The  Pilgrims  sprang  to  their  feet,  seizing  their 
guns  and  swords.  Perhaps  he  was  only  one  of 
many  who  were  already  in  the  village. 


Samoset  135 

The  Indian  did  not  move  from  his  place,  though 
he  laid  his  hand  upon  a  little  hatchet  at  his  belt. 
How  sharply  his  bright  eyes  glanced  from  one  to 
another  of  the  men ! 

"Welcome,  Englishmen!"  said  he. 

"What!  Do  these  savages  speak  English?" 
said  William  Bradford. 

"Look  to  your  guns,  men,"  said  Captain  Miles 
Standish  in  a  low  voice.  ' '  He  may  not  be  so  friendly 
as  he  seems." 

Perhaps  the  Indian  understood  the  Captain's 
words,  for  he  said  quickly,  "Samoset  friend  of 
Englishmen.  He  come  to  say  welcome." 

Elder  Brewster  stepped  forward  and  gave  his 
hand  to  the  strange  visitor.  "Thank  you  for 
your  kind  words,  friend.  Where  did  you  learn 
our  language?" 

"Samoset  is  chief  in  little  land  in  the  sea. 
Many  English  come  there  to  fish  and  buy  furs. 
Samoset  much  good  to  Englishmen." 

"How  far  away  is  your  island?"  asked  the  elder. 

"Come  big  wind  in  ship,  one  day.  Or  canoe  to 
shore,  then  walk,  five  days,"  answered  the  chief. 

"And  which  way  did  you  come,  Samoset?" 

"Samoset  come  in  ship  eight  moons  ago. 
English  friend  give  Samoset  and  other  chiefs  long 
ride  in  his  ship." 

Then  the  Pilgrims  asked  the  Indian  to  sit  down 
in  the  common-house  with  them.  They  brought 


i 36  Pilgrim  Stories 

him  food  and  drink,  and  as  he  ate  they  asked  him 
many  questions. 

"Are  your  Indian  friends  near  here?"  asked 
Captain  Standish. 

"Many  Indians  in  forest,"  answered  Samoset. 
"They  bring  many  furs  to  trade  with  white  men. 
Indians  great  hunters.  White  man  not  know 
how  to  make  good  traps  like  Indian." 

The  Pilgrims  looked  at  William  Bradford  and 
smiled.  He,  too,  was  thinking  of  the  Indian 
deer  trap  in  which  he  had  been  caught  one  day. 

"Samoset  have  Indian  friend  named  Squanto. 
Him  speak  good  English,"  said  Samoset,  as  he 
took  another  leg  of  roast  duck. 

"Why  did  not  Squanto  come  with  you?"  asked 
Elder  Brewster. 

' '  Squanto  wise  like  f  ox .  Him  put  his  paw  in  trap 
one  time.  Him  much  afraid  of  white  man  now." 

"Did  the  white  men  not  treat  him  well?"  asked 
Bradford. 

Then  Samoset  laid  down  his  bone  and  told  them 
Squanto's  story.  He  said,  "Sailor-man  tell 
Squanto  to  come  have  little  ride  in  his  white- 
winged  canoe.  Then  he  take  Squanto  and  twenty 
other  Indians  to  land  of  the  sunrise,  across  the 
Big-sea-water.  He  sell  them  to  be  slaves. 

"After  many  snows  Squanto  run  away.  Good 
fisherman  bring  him  back  home.  He  learn  English 
in  the  white  man's  country." 


Samoset  137 

Samoset  did  not  seem  in  any  hurry  to  leave  the 
village.  He  walked  about  looking  in  at  the  doors 
or  windows  of  the  cottages.  He  knew  the  women 
and  children  were  all  afraid  of  him,  and  he  seemed 
to  enjoy  their  fright. 

When  night  came  he  was  still  in  the  village. 
Some  thought  he  was  a  spy  sent  to  find  out  how 
strong  the  settlement  was.  They  were  afraid  they 
would  make  him  angry  by  sending  him  away. 

"What  shall  we  do  with  him?"  they  asked,  as 
bedtime  drew  near. 

"I  believe  he  is  a  friendly  Indian.  He  may 
stay  in  my  house  to-night,"  said  Master  Hopkins. 

So  Mistress  Hopkins  made  a  bed  for  him  on  a 
cot  in  the  kitchen.  But  Samoset  would  not  sleep 
on  the  cot.  He  spread  a  deerskin  on  the  floor  and 
slept  before  the  fireplace.  His  dark  skin  glistened 
in  the  firelight  as  he  slept. 

But  Master  Hopkins  did  not  sleep.  All  night 
long  he  lay  and  watched  the  Indian  on  his 
hearth.  He  dared  not  close  his  eyes  for  fear  he 
would  awake  to  find  his  family  killed  and  his 
house  in  flames. 

Very  few  of  the  Pilgrims  slept  well  that  night. 
If  they  heard  an  owl  hoot  or  a  wolf  howl  in  the 
forests,  they  thought  it  was  the  yell  of  Indians 
come  to  destroy  their  town. 

But  the  night  passed  in  safety,  and  in  the  morn 
ing  Samoset  bade  his  new  friends  good-bye.  The 


138  Pilgrim  Stories 

Pilgrims  gave  him  some  beads  and  an  English 
coat  which  pleased  him  very  much. 

"Come  again  to-morrow  and  bring  your  friends," 
said  William  Bradford,  as  he  walked  with  Samoset 
to  the  edge  of  the  town.  "Tell  the  Indians  to 
bring  their  furs  and  we  will  pay  for  them,  but  you 
must  not  bring  your  bows  and  arrows,  knives  or 
hatchets  into  our  settlement." 


THE  next  day  passed  and  no  Indians  came  to 
the  village.  The  day  after  this  was  Sun 
day,  and  the  Pilgrims  were  always  careful 
to  make  Sunday  a  holy  day.  They  met  in  the 
common-house  to  sing  and  pray  to  God,  and  to 
listen  to  Elder  Brewster's  sermon. 

When  their  service  was  over,  they  started 
quietly  toward  their  homes.  Before  them 
marched  Captain  Standish  with  his  gun,  ready  to 
give  the  alarm  if  he  saw  any  danger. 

Suddenly  five  great  Indians  came  out  of  the 
forest.  They  wore  suits  of  deerskin,  and  their 
faces  were  streaked  with  gay-colored  paints.  In 
their  hair  they  wore  long  eagle  feathers,  and  each 
man  carried  a  roll  of  fine  furs. 

"It  is  Samoset  and  his  friends.  That  means 
five  more  hungry  men  to  feed,"  said  Priscilla  to 
Mistress  Brewster. 

"I  think  we  have  plenty  of  food  to  share  with 
them,"  answered  Mistress  Brewster.  "We  will 
set  the  table  for  them  in  the  common-house,  and 
they  need  not  come  into  our  houses  at  all.  It 
frightens  the  children  to  see  them  looking  in  at 
the  doors." 

After  the  Indians  had  eaten  their  dinner,  they 
spread  their  furs  upon  the  table.  Then  they 

139 


140  Pilgrim  Stories 

motioned  to  bowls  and  kettles,  and  knives,  and 
other  things  which  they  wanted  in  return  for  their 
rolls  of  furs. 

"No,  Samoset,  this  is  Sunday.  This  is  our 
Lord's  Day.  Tell  your  friends  we  cannot  trade 
with  them  on  the  Lord's  Day.  Come  to-morrow 
and  we  will  be  glad  to  buy  your  furs." 

Samoset  could  not  see  why  one  day  was  any 
better  than  another,  but  he  told  his  friends  what 
the  Pilgrims  had  said.  So  the  Indians  rolled 
up  their  furs  and  without  another  word  walked 
out  of  the  village. 

Several  days  passed  and  the  Indians  did  not 
return.  The  Pilgrims  began  to  wonder  if  the 
savages  were  angry  because  they  had  not  taken 
the  furs  on  Sunday. 

The  men  were  again  in  the  common-house 
drawing  plans  for  the  fort  to  be  built  upon  the 
hill,  when  Francis  Billington  and  Love  Brewster 
rushed  into  the  room.  They  were  pale  with 
fright  and  out  of  breath  with  running. 

"Indians!  Indians!"  they  gasped.  "We  were 
down  by  the  brook — gathering  willows — to  make 
whistles — and  we  saw — at  least  a  hundred 
Indians — come  out  of  the  woods." 

But  Miles  Standish  did  not  wait  to  hear  the  end 
of  their  story.  He  ran  to  the  door  and  looked 
toward  the  forest.  Yes,  the  boys  were  right, 
there  was  a  large  band  of  Indians  on  the  hill  near 


The  Treaty  of  Peace  141 

by.  They  talked  together  and  pointed  toward 
Plymouth  village. 

Quickly  Captain  Standish  turned  and  gave  his 
orders.  Each  man  knew  just  where  he  was  to 
stand  and  what  he  was  to  do  in  case  of  an  attack. 

Then  Samoset  and  another  Indian  left  the  band 
and  came  slowly  down  into  the  village.  Miles 
Standish  and  Edward  Winslow  went  forward  to 
meet  them. 

"This  is  Squanto,  friend  of  English,"  said 
Samoset. 

"You  are  both  welcome  to  our  village," 
answered  Edward  Winslow.  "We  hope  you  have 
brought  many  furs  to  trade  with  us  to-day." 

"No  furs,"  replied  Samoset.  "Massasoit,  the 
Great  Chief  of  red  men,  comes  to  meet  the  White 
Chief.  Massasoit  would  be  the  White  Chief's 
brother." 

When  the  Pilgrims  learned  that  the  king  of 
many  tribes  waited  to  see  them,  they  wished  to 
show  him  honor.  Governor  Carver  prepared 
some  gifts  for  the  chief,  and  Edward  Winslow, 
wearing  his  finest  armor,  went  with  Squanto  to 
the  place  where  the  Indians  waited. 

Massasoit  looked  very  like  a  king  as  he  rested 
his  long  bow  upon  the  ground  and  stood  to  receive 
the  white  man.  He  was  very  tall  and  straight. 
His  garments  of  deerskin  were  beautifully  trimmed 
with  shells  and  shining  quills,  and  he  wore  a  band 


142 


Pilgrim  Stories 


of  eagle  feathers  which  reached  from  the  top  of 
his  head  to  the  ground. 

Upon    the    grass    before    Massasoit,    Edward 
Winslow  spread  a  red  blanket  of  fine  wool,  upon 


"Massasoit  looked  very  like  a  king" 

which  he  placed  strings  of  bright  beads,  a  knife, 
and  a  long  copper  chain. 

When  he  had   slowly   and   carefully  arranged 


The  Treaty  of  Peace  143 

all  these  things,  Winslow  arose  and  said  to 
Massasoit,  "My  chief  sends  to  you  these  gifts  and 
invites  you  to  his  house.  He  would  be  your  friend." 

When  Squanto  had  told  Massasoit  these  words, 
the  chief  motioned  Winslow  to  stay  there  until  he 
returned.  Then  taking  twenty  of  his  warriors, 
he  went  to  the  village,  led  by  Squanto. 

Captain  Standish,  Master  Allerton,  and  six 
other  soldiers  dressed  in  their  bright  armor  met 
Massasoit  and  his  men  at  the  brook  and  escorted 
them  to  the  common-house.  Here  a  large  rug 
was  spread  and  cushions  were  laid  for  the  chief 
and  his  braves. 

Soon  the  sound  of  drum  and  fife  was  heard, 
and  Governor  Carver  entered,  followed  by  the 
rest  of  the  little  army. 

Then  meat  and  drink  were  brought,  and,  after 
the  company  had  eaten  together,  Governor  Carver 
and  Massasoit  made  a  treaty  of  peace. 

Massasoit  arose  and  in  his  own  language  prom 
ised  that  the  Indians  would  not  harm  the  white 
men,  and,  if  other  Indian  tribes  made  war  upon 
Plymouth,  Massasoit  would  help  the  Pilgrims. 

He  promised  that  his  tribes  should  not  bring 
their  bows  and  arrows  into  the  white  men's 
settlement. 

When  Samoset  had  told  in  English  what 
Massasoit  had  said,  Governor  Carver  spoke.  He 
said  the  Pilgrims  would  not  harm  the  Indians, 


144  Pilgrim  Stories 

or  carry  their  guns  into  the  Indian  villages  when 
they  went  there  to  visit.  He  promised  Massasoit 
they  would  always  pay  the  Indians  a  fair  price  for 
the  furs  and  other  things  they  bought  of  them. 

When  the  governor's  words  had  been  told  to 
Massasoit  by  Squanto,  a  treaty  of  peace  was  signed. 
The  Indian  chief  could  not  write,  but,  instead,  he 
made  a  little  cross.  Massasoit  did  not  understand 
the  signing  of  the  paper.  When  Indians  make  a 
treaty  of  peace  the  two  chiefs  always  smoke  a 
peace  pipe.  So  the  governor  and  the  chief 
smoked  the  great  stone  peace  pipe  which  Samoset 
brought  to  them.  "Now  are  the  white  men  and 
the  red  men  always  brothers,"  said  Samoset. 

Then  Massasoit  unrolled  the  gifts  he  had 
brought  to  his  white  brother,  Governor  Carver. 
There  were  the  finest  of  furs,  a  bow  and  arrows  like 
his  own,  and  a  necklace  of  bears'  teeth. 

When  Massasoit  and  his  company  were  ready 
to  return  to  their  camp,  Captain  Standish  and  his 
soldiers  escorted  them  as  far  as  the  brook,  to  show 
them  honor. 

This  treaty  of  peace  between  the  Pilgrims  and 
the  Indians  was  kept  for  fifty  years.  In  all  this 
time  they  did  not  break  their  promises  to  each 
other. 


w 


SQUANTO 

HEN  Massasoit  and  his  people  returned 
to  their  camp  in  the  forest,  Squanto  did 
not  go  with  them. 

"Many,  many  moons  ago  wigwams  of  Squanto's 
people  stand  here,  and  here,"  he  said,  pointing 
to  the  shore  and  the  brookside.  "Many  canoes 
on  shore.  Many  camp  fires  on  hillside."  . 

"Did  your  tribe  move  to  some  other  place, 
Squanto?"  asked  Elder  Brewster. 

"No,"  answered  the  Indian,  sadly.  "Black 
sickness  come.  Papoose  all  die.  Squaws  all  die. 
Chief  and  braves  die.  Only  Squanto  get  well. 
Squanto  come  home  now,  and  live  with  white 
brothers." 

The  Pilgrims  were  glad  to  have  Squanto  live 
with  them,  for  he  helped  them  in  many  ways. 
He  knew  every  path  in  the  forest  and  was  their 
guide  when  they  went  there  to  hunt.  He  knew 
just  where  the  deer  went  to  drink,  and  in  which 
streams  to  find  the  busy  beavers. 

He  taught  the  Pilgrims  how  to  make  a  trap 
near  the  spring  where  the  deer  came  to  drink. 
He  bent  down  a  strong  branch  of  a  tree  and 
fastened  it  to  the  ground.  When  the  deer  stepped 
upon  the  end  of  the  branch,  it  caught  his  foot  and 
flew  up,  carrying  the  deer  high  in  the  air. 


146  Pilgrim  Stories 

"This  is  a  cruel  trap,  Squanto.  We  will  never 
use  it  if  we  can  get  food  any  other  way,"  said 
William  Bradford. 

"No,  better  to  shoot  deer,"  answered  Squanto. 
"Poor  Indian  not  have  gun  like  white  man." 

He  taught  them  how  to  make  a  snare  of  willow 
twigs  and  put  it  in  the  brook  to  catch  fish.  He 
knew  how  to  make  a  bear  trap  of  logs,  and  how 
to  call  the  wild  ducks  and  other  birds. 

Squanto  could  go  through  the  forest  without 
making  a  dry  leaf  rustle  or  breaking  a  twig.  He 
could  lie  down  on  the  ground  and  move  through 
the  tall  grass  without  being  seen. 

When  the  Pilgrims  and  the  Indians  met  to 
trade,  Squanto  could  always  tell  each  what  the 
other  said.  "How  could  we  ever  talk  to  the 
Indians  if  Squanto  should  die?"  thought  Edward 
Winslow.  "I  think  I  will  learn  the  Indian 
language  while  Squanto  is  here  to  teach  me." 

So  the  Indian  became  Winslow's  patient  teacher, 
and  when  these  two  were  together  they  used  the 
Indian  language.  This  pleased  Squanto  very 
much,  for  English  was  hard  for  him. 

The  printed  page  was  a  great  wonder  to  Squanto. 
He  called  it  the  "speaking  paper."  Indians 
sometimes  wrote  with  paint  upon  a  great  flat 
rock,  or  with  a  bit  of  charcoal  upon  a  piece  of 
birch  bark,  but  their  writing  was  all  in  pictures. 

Squanto  was  eager  to  learn  to  read  the  white 


Squanto 


147 


man's  books.     "Teach  Squanto  to  make  paper 
talk,"  he  said  to  Winslow  one  day. 

So  that  evening  when  the  candles  were  lighted, 
Squanto  came  to  Master  Winslow' s  house  for  his 
lesson.  There  were  no  primers  or  first  readers 
in  Plymouth  then,  but  Winslow  took  down  his 
Bible.  It  was  the  book  from  which  he  had  learned 
to  read;  he  would  teach  Squanto 
from  it. 

Every  evening  the  Indian  and  his 
friend  bent  over  the  old  book, 
spelling  out  its  wonderful  stories. 

One  day  Squanto  came  in  from 
the  forest,  carrying  a  little  oak  branch 
in  his  hand.  Pointing  to  its  tiny 
leaves,  he  said,  "See!  oak  leaves 
big  like  squirrel's  foot.  Time  to 
plant  corn  now." 

Then  he  went  down  to  the  brook 
and  set  a  snare  to  catch  the  fish 
as  they  swam  up  the  stream.  The 
next  morning  Elder  Brewster  met 
Squanto  coming  from  the  brook  with  Indian  picture 
a  large  basket  full  of  little  fish.  writing 

"Why,  Squanto!"  he  said.  "What  are  you 
going  to  do  with  those  tiny  fish?  They  are  too 
small  to  eat." 

"Indians  plant  corn  in  these  fields  many  times," 
answered  Squanto.  "Ground  hungry  now.  We 


S  f  7 


148  Pilgrim  Stories 

must  feed  the  hungry  earth."  So  he  showed  the 
Pilgrims  how  to  put  two  little  fishes  into  each  hill 
of  corn.  They  were  glad  to  do  as  Squanto  taught 
them,  for  they  had  never  planted  corn  before. 


BACK  TO  ENGLAND? 

ONE  day,  almost  before  the  snow  had  melted 
from  the  ground,  Priscilla,  Mary  Chilton, 
and  some  of  the  other  girls  began  to  look 
for  spring  flowers  near  the  edge  of  the  forest. 

They  brushed  away  the  dry  leaves  to  see  if  the 
violets  or  windflowers  had  started  to  grow.  Some 
times  they  found,  pushing  their  way  up  through 
the  earth,  a  group  of  tiny  rough  balls  which  would 
some  day  unroll  into  a  beautiful  fern. 

There  were  many  pale  little  plants  lifting  their 
first  buds  up  through  the  earth  and  leaves,  but  not 
a  flower  on  any  of  them. 

"It  must  be  too  early  for  blossoms,"  said  Mary 
Chilton.  "See,  there  are  still  patches  of  snow  in 
that  shady  hollow." 

"This  is  Mistress  Brewster's  birthday,  and  I 
did  hope  we  could  find  a  few  blossoms  for  her," 
said  Priscilla. 

"Since  she  cannot  come  to  the  woods,  let  us 
take  some  of  the  woods  to  her,"  said  Mary,  digging 
up  a  handful  of  earth  and  leaves. 

"Why  do  you  take  those  dry  leaves?"  asked  one 
of  the  girls. 

Mary  lifted  the  old  leaves  of  the  little  plant  she 
held,  and  showed  the  furry  stems  and  buds  of  the 
hepatica.  "They  will  open  in  a  day  or  two  if  we 

149 


150  Pilgrim  Stories 

put  them  in  the  sun,  and  Mistress  Brewster  will 
enjoy  watching  them  unfold,"  she  said. 

When  the  basket  was  filled  with  the  dead- 
looking  earth  and  leaves,  it  seemed  like  a  queer 
birthday  present  for  the  dear  old  lady  whom  the 
girls  often  lovingly  called  "mother."  But  it  was 
not  many  days  until  dozens  of  little  furry  stems 
lifted  their  dainty  purple  and  white  blossoms 
above  the  brown  leaves. 

As  the  girls  came  out  of  the  forest,  they  looked 
across  the  water  to  where  the  "Mayflower"  still 
lay  in  the  harbor.  The  ship  swung  lightly  to  and 
fro  as  though  glad  to  be  free  from  the  icy  bounds 
which  had  held  it  so  many  weeks. 

The  spring  storms  were  over  now,  and  the 
"Mayflower"  must  soon  return  to  England. 
Every  evening  for  a  week  the  Pilgrims  had  bent 
over  their  rough  pine  tables,  writing  letters  for 
the  "Mayflower"  to  carry  to  friends  across  the  sea. 

It  was  eight  months  since  they  had  left  England, 
and  there  was 'so  much  to  write  in  these  first 
letters  to  their  friends.  They  must  tell  about  the 
place  where  they  had  settled,  the  new  homes  they 
were  making,  and  about  their  Indian  neighbors. 

Then  there  was  the  sad  story  of  sickness  and 
death,  which  must  be  told.  Many  of  the  letters 
were  full  of  sadness  and  longing  for  England. 

As  the  girls  walked  slowly  down  the  hill  each 
was  thinking  of  all  that  had  happened  to  the  little 


Back  to  England?  157 

band  since  the  "Mayflower"  dropped  anchor  in 
that  harbor. 

"There  must  be  a  meeting  in  the  common- 
house  this  morning,"  said  Mary  Chilton,  as  she 
noticed  a  number  of  people  entering  the  square 
log  building.  "Let  us  go  in." 

When  they  entered  the  large  room,  they  saw 
the  captain  of  the  "Mayflower"  standing  before 
the  people.  He  was  thanking  the  Pilgrims  for 
the  kindness  they  had  shown  to  him  and  to  his 
men;  for  nursing  them  when  they  were  ill,  and 
for  sharing  their  provisions  with  them  when  food 
was  so  scarce. 

"To-morrow,  if  the  wind  is  fair,  we  set  sail  for 
England,"  he  said.  "You  have  had  a  sad,  hard 
winter  here.  Many  of  those  whom  the  "May 
flower"  brought  to  this  shore  are  dead.  Now  that 
there  are  so  few  of  you,  are  you  not  afraid  to  stay 
here  in  this  lonely  land  ?  If  any  of  you  wish  to 
return  to  England,  I  will  give  you  free  passage." 

The  Pilgrims  thought  of  the  loved  ones  they  had 
lost,  and  of  the  new  grave  on  the  hill  where,  only 
a  few  days  before,  they  had  laid  their  dear 
governor,  John  Carver. 

Mistress  Brewster's  eyes  grew  dim  as  she  thought 
of  her  son,  and  of  Fear  and  Patience  so  far  across 
the  water.  Should  she  return  to  them?  "No," 
she  thought,  "we  are  making  them  a  better  home 
here,  and  sometime  they  will  come  to  us." 


152  Pilgrim  Stories 

William  Bradford,  who  had  been  chosen  as  the 
new  governor,  was  the  first  to  speak. 

"Men,  you  have  heard  the  captain's  offer. 
What  do  you  say?  Do  any  of  you  wish  to  return 
to  England?" 

"No,"  came  the  answer.  "Our  homes  are  here, 
and  here  we  will  stay." 

"And  these  maids  who  have  lost  both  father 
and  mother,  do  they  not  wish  to  return  to  their 
old  homes  across  the  sea?"  asked  the  ship's 
captain. 

"Speak,  Priscilla,"  said  Governor  Bradford. 

"I  have  no  home  other  than  the  one  Elder 
Brewster  and  his  wife  so  kindly  offered  me,"  said 
Priscilla. 

"I  have  no  wish  to  return,  since  all  I  have  is 
here,"  said  Mary  Chilton. 

Again  Governor  Bradford  spoke.  "Do  not 
answer  in  haste,"  he  said.  "Think  what  it  means 
to  remain  in  this  wild  new  land.  Let  each  man 
answer  for  himself  and  his  family.  What  say 
you,  Master  Allerton?" 

"I  and  my  family  will  stay,"  he  replied. 

So  said  all  the  others.  Not  one  of  the  brave 
men  and  women  accepted  the  captain's  offer. 


THE  FIRST  THANKSGIVING 

THE  summer  days  were  full  for  the  busy 
Pilgrims.  In  the  fields  there  were  only 
twenty  men  and  a  few  boys  to  do  all  the 
work.  There  was  corn  to  hoe,  and  there  were 
gardens  to  weed  and  care  for.  When  time  could 
be  spared  from  this  work,  there  were  barns  to  be 
built, .  and  the  fort  to  finish. 

The  brave  men  worked  from  morning  till  night 
preparing  for  the  next  long  winter.  The  sun  and 
the  rain  helped  them.  The  crops  grew  wonder 
fully,  and  soon  the  hillsides  were  green  with 
growing  corn,  and  wheat,  and  vegetables. 

When  the  warm  days  of  early  summer  came, 
there  were  sweet  wild  strawberries  on  the  sunny 
hills.  A  little  later,  groups  of  boys  and  girls  filled 
their  baskets  with  wild  raspberries  and  juicy 
blackberries  from  the  bushes  on  the  edge  of  the 
forest.  Sugar  was  too  scarce  to  be  used  for  jellies 
and  preserves,  but  trays  of  the  wild  fruits  were 
placed  in  the  sun  to  dry  for  winter  use. 

The  fresh  green  of  the  wheat  fields  began  to 
turn  a  golden  brown.  The  harvest  was  ripening. 
Before  long  the  air  rang  with  the  steady  beat  of 
the  flail,  as  the  Pilgrims  threshed  their  first  crop 
of  golden  grain. 


Pilgrim  Stories 

Soon  tne  corn  was  ready  to  be  cut  and  stacked 
in  shocks.  Then  came  the  early  frosts,  and  the 
Pilgrims  hurried  to  gather  the  sweet  wild  grapes 
from  vines  which  grew  over  bushes  and  low  trees 
near  the  brook.  The  frost  had  opened  the  prickly 
burs  and  hard  brown  coats  of  the  nuts,  and  every 
day  Squanto  went  with  a  merry  group  of  boys  to 
gather  chestnuts,  hickory  nuts,  beechnuts,  and 
walnuts. 

At  last  the  harvest  was  all  gathered  in.  The 
Pilgrims  rejoiced  as  they  saw  the  bountiful  supply 
of  food  for  the  winter.  Some  of  the  golden  ears 
of  corn  they  hung  above  the  fireplace  to  dry  for 
seed.  The  rest  they  shelled  and  buried  in  the 
ground,  as  Squanto  showed  them  how  to  do. 

As  the  evenings  grew  longer  and  cooler,  the 
Pilgrims  often  went  in  to  spend  an  hour  or  two  at 
Elder  Brewster's.  The  men  piled  great  logs  upon 
the  fire.  Then  the  girls  and  boys  drew  the  chairs 
and  benches  nearer  the  huge  fireplace,  and  all 
would  sit  in  the  twilight  and  talk. 

Sometimes  they  spoke  of  old  times  in  England 
or  Holland,  but  usually  it  was  of  their  work 'and 
the  life  in  the  new  home.  On  this  November 
evening  all  talked  of  the  harvest  which  had  just 
been  stored  away. 

"Friends,"  said  Governor  Bradford,  "God  has 
blessed  our  summer's  work,  and  has  sent  us  a 
bountiful  harvest.  He  brought  us  safe  to  this 


The  First  Thanksgiving  755 

new  home  and  protected  us  through  the  terrible 
winter.  It  is  fit  we  have  a  time  for  giving  thanks 
to  God  for  His  mercies  to  us.  What  say  you? 
Shall  we  not  have  a  week  of  feasting  and  of 
thanksgiving  ?" 

"A  week  of  thanksgiving!"  said  the  Pilgrims. 
"Yes,  let  us  rest  from  our  work  and  spend  the 
time  in  gladness  and  thanksgiving.  God  has  been 
very  good  to  us." 

So  it  was  decided  that  the  next  week  should  be 
set  aside  for  the  harvest  feast  of  thanksgiving,  and 
that  their  Indian  friends  should  be  asked  to  join 
them. 

Early  the  ntxt  morning  Squanto  was  sent  to 
invite  Massasoit  with  his  brother  and  friends 
to  come  the  following  Thursday. 

When  he  returned,  a  party  of  men  took  their 
guns  and  went  into  the  woods  for  two  days  of 
hunting.  They  would  need  many  deer  and  wild 
ducks  to  feed  so  large  a  company. 

Far  away  in  the  forest  they  heard  the  sound  of 
wild  turkeys.  They  hurried  on  in  that  direction, 
•but  the  sound  seemed  as  far  away  as  ever. 

Squanto  knew  how  to  bring  the  turkeys  nearer 
He  made  a  kind  of  whistle  out  of  a  reed.  When  he 
blew  it,  it  sounded  like  the  cry  of  a  young  turkey. 

"Squanto  blow.  Turkeys  come.  Then  Squanto 
shoot!  Ugh!"  said  the  Indian,  as  he  showed  the 
Pilgrims  his  whistle. 


1 56  Pilgrim  Stories 

When  the  men  came  back  from  their  hunt  they 
brought  a  bountiful  supply  of  game.  There  were 
deer,  rabbits,  wild  ducks,  and  four  large  turkeys. 

The  next  few  days  were  busy  ones  in  Plymouth 
kitchens.  There  were  the  great  brick  ovens  to 
heat,  and  bread  to  bake,  and  game  to  dress. 

"Priscilla  shall  be  chief  cook,"  said  Mistress 
Brewster.  "No  one  can  make  such  delicious 
dishes  as  she." 

As  soon  as  it  was  light  on  Wednesday  morning, 
a  roaring  fire  was  built  in  the  huge  fireplace  in 
Elder  Brewster' s  kitchen.  A  great  pile  of  red- 
hot  coals  was  placed  in  the  brick  oven  in  the 
chimney. 

Then  Mary  Chilton  and  Priscilla  tied  their 
aprons  around  them,  tucked  up  their  sleeves,  and 
put  white  caps  over  their  hair.  Their  hands 
fairly  flew  as  they  measured  and  sifted  the  flour, 
or  rolled  and  cut  cookies  and  tarts. 

Over  at  another  table  Remember  Allerton  and 
Constance  Hopkins  washed  and  chopped  dried 
fruits  for  pies  and  puddings.  Out  on  the  sunny 
doorstone  Love  Brewster  and  Francis  Billington. 
sat  cracking  nuts  and  picking  out  the  plump 
kernels  for  the  cakes  Priscilla  was  making.  What 
a  merry  place  the  big  kitchen  was! 

When  the  oven  was  hot,  the  coals  were  drawn 
out,  and  the  long  baking  pans  were  put  in.  Soon 
sweet,  spicy  odors  filled  the  room,  and  on  the  long 


The  First  Thanksgiving 


157 


shelves  were  rows  and  rows  of  pies,  tarts,   and 
little  nut  cakes. 

In  the  afternoon  all  of  the  girls  and  boys  took 
their  baskets  or  pails  and  went  to  the  beach  to 
dig  clams.  "Clams  will  make  a  delicious  broth. 
We  shall  need  hundreds  of  them,"  said  Priscilla. 


"The  boys  and  girls  .  .  .  went  to  the 
beach  to  dig  clams" 

While  they  were  gone,  some  of  the  men  brought 
boards,  hammers,  and  saws  and  built  two  long 
tables  out-of-doors  near  the  common-house.  Here 
the  men  would  eat,  and  a  table  would  be  spread 
in  the  elder's  house  for  the  women  and  children. 

It  was  Thursday  morning,   and  the   Pilgrims 


Pilgrim  Stories 

were  up  early  to  prepare  for  the  guests  they  had 
invited  to  the  feast  of  thanksgiving.  The  air  was 
mild  and  pleasant,  and  a  soft  purple  haze  lay  upon 
field  and  wood. 

"We  could  not  have  had  a  more  beautiful  day 
for  our  feast,"  thought  Miles  Standish,  as  he 
climbed  the  hill  to  fire  the  sunrise  gun. 

Just  then  wild  yells  and  shouts  told  the  aston 
ished  Pilgrims  that  their  guests  had  arrived. 
Down  the  hill  from  the  forest  came  Massasoit,  his 
brother,  and  nearly  a  hundred  of  his  friends, 
dressed  in  their  finest  skins,  and  in  holiday  paint 
and  feathers. 

The  captain  and  a  number  of  other  men  went 
out  to  welcome  the  Indians,  and  the  women 
hurried  to  prepare  breakfast  for  them. 

Squanto  and  John  Alden  built  a  big  fire  near 
the  brook,  and  soon  the  clam  broth  was  simmering 
in  the  great  kettle. 

The  roll  of  the  drum  called  all  to  prayers,  for 
the  Pilgrims  never  began  a  day  without  asking 
God's  blessing  upon  it.  "The  white  men  talk  to 
the  Great  Spirit,"  Squanto  explained  to  Chief 
Massasoit.  "They  thank  Him  for  His  good  gifts." 
The  Indians  seemed  to  understand,  and  listened 
quietly  to  the  prayers. 

Then  all  sat  down  at  the  long  tables.  The 
women  were  soon  busy  passing  great  bowls  of 
clam  broth  to  each  hungry  guest.  There  were 


The  First  Thanksgiving  159 

piles  of  brown  bread  and  sweet  cakes ;  there  were 
dishes  of  turnips  and  boiled  meat,  and  later, 
bowls  of  pudding  made  from  Indian  corn. 

While  they  were  eating,  one  of  the  Indians 
brought  a  great  basket  filled  with  popped  corn 
and  poured  it  out  upon  the  table  before  Elder 
Brewster.  The  Pilgrims  had  never  seen  pop  corn 
before.  They  filled  a  large  bowl  with  this  new 
dainty  and  sent  it  in  to  the  children's  table. 

When  breakfast  was  over,  there  was  another 
service  of  thanksgiving,  led  by  Elder  Brewster. 
Then  Governor  Bradford  took  his  friends  to  the 
grassy  common  where  they  would  have  games. 

A  number  of  little  stakes  were  driven  into  the 
ground,  and  here  several  groups  of  Indians  and 
Pilgrims  played  quoits,  the  Indians  often  throwing 
the  greater  number  of  rings  over  the  stakes. 

Then  the  savages  entertained  their  friends  with 
some  wonderful  tests  in  running  and  jumping. 
After  this  Governor  Bradford  invited  the  Indians 
to  sit  down  on  the  grass  and  watch  the  soldiers 
drill  on  the  common. 

The  Indians  sat  down,  not  knowing  what  to 
expect  next,  for  they  had  never  before  seen 
soldiers  drill.  Suddenly  they  heard  the  sound  of 
trumpets,  and  the  roll  of  drums.  Down  the 
hill  marched  the  little  army  of  only  nineteen  men, 
the  flag  of  old  England  waving  above  their  heads. 

To  right  and  to  left  they  marched,  in  single 


11 


l6o  Pilgrim  Stories 

file  or  by  twos  and  threes,  then  at  a  word  from 
the  captain,  fired  their  muskets  into  the  air.  The 
Indians  were  not  expecting  this,  and  some  sprang 
to  their  feet  in  alarm. 

Again  came  the  sharp  reports  of  the  muskets. 
Many  of  the  Indians  looked  frightened.  "Have 
the  white  men  brought  us  here  to  destroy  us?" 
they  asked. 

"The  white  men  are  our  friends;  they  will  not 
harm  us,"  answered  Massasoit. 

Hardly  had  he  finished  speaking  when  there 
came  a  deep  roar  from  the  cannon  on  the  fort. 
The  sound  rolled  from  hill  to  hill.  At  this  the 
Indians  became  more  and  more  uneasy.  They 
did  not  enjoy  the  way  the  white  men  entertained 
their  guests. 

Some  thought  of  an  excuse  to  leave  the  village. 
"We  will  go  into  the  forest  and  hunt,"  they  said. 
"We  will  bring  deer  for  the  white  men's  feast." 

Captain  Standish  smiled  as  he  saw  the  Indians 
start  for  the  forest.  "They  do  not  like  the 
thunder  of  our  cannon,"  he  said. 

But  the  next  morning  the  five  Indians  returned, 
each  bringing  a  fine  deer. 

Saturday  was  the  last  day  of  the  feast.  How 
busy  the  women  were  preparing  this  greatest 
dinner!  Of  course  the  men  and  boys  helped  too. 
They  dressed  the  game,  brought  water  from  the 
brook,  and  wood  for  the  fire. 


The  First  Thanksgiving 


161 


There  were  turkeys,  stuffed  with  beechnuts, 
browning  before  the  fire.  There  were  roasts  of  all 
kinds,  and  a  wonderful  stew  made  of  birds  and 
other  game. 


"The  Indians  had  never  seen  such  a  feast" 

And  you  should  have  seen  the  great  dishes  of 
purple  grapes,  the  nuts,  and  the  steaming  pud 
dings.  The  table  seemed  to  groan  under  its  load 
of  good  things.  The  Indians  had  never  seen  such 


162  Pilgrim  Stories 

a  feast.  "Ugh!"  said  Massasoit,  as  he  ate  the 
puffy  dumplings  in  Priscilla's  stew.  "Ugh!  The 
Great  Spirit  loves  his  white  children  best!" 

So  the  happy  day  ended,  and  the  Indians 
returned  to  their  wigwams.  The  Pilgrims  never 
forgot  their  first  Thanksgiving  day.  Each  year 
when  the  harvests  were  gathered,  they  would  set 
aside  a  day  for  thanking  God  for  his  good  gifts,  and 
for  years  their  Indian  friends  joined  in  this  feast. 


THANKSGIVING 

"Have  you  cut  the  wheat  in  the  blowing  fields, 
The  barley,  the  oats,  and  the  rye, 

The  golden  corn  and  the  pearly  rice? 
For  the  winter  days  are  nigh." 

"We  have  reaped  them  all  from  shore  to  shore, 
And  the  grain  is  safe  on  the  threshing  floor." 

"Have  you  gathered  the  berries  from  the  vine, 
And  the  fruit  from  the  orchard  trees  ? 

The  dew  and  the  scent  from  the  roses  and  thyme, 
In  the  hive  of  the  honeybees?" 

"The  peach  and  the  plum  and  the  apple  are  ours, 
And  the  honeycomb  from  the  scented  flowers." 

"The  wealth  of  the  snowy  cotton  field 

And  the  gift  of  the  sugar  cane, 
The  savory  herb  and  the  nourishing  root — 

There  has  nothing  been  given  in  vain." 

"We  have  gathered  the  harvest  from  shore  to  shore, 
And  the  measure  is  full  and  brimming  o'er." 

"Then  lift  up  the  head  with  a  song! 

And  lift  up  the  hand  with  a  gift ! 
To  the  ancient  Giver  of  all 

The  spirit  in  gratitude  lift! 
For  the  joy  and  the  promise  of  spring, 

For  the  hay  and  the  clover  sweet, 
The  barley,  the  rye,  and  the  oats, 

The  rice,  and  the  corn,  and  the  wheat, 
The  cotton,  and  sugar,  and  fruit, 

The  flowers  and  the  fine  honeycomb, 
The  country  so  fair  and  so  free, 

The  blessings  and  glory  of  home." 

AMELIA  E.  BARR. 

163 


FRIENDS  OR  FOES? 

ONE  day  late  in  November,  Governor  Brad 
ford     and    his    friend    Edward     Winslow 
walked  along  the  top  of  the  hill  toward 
Plymouth.     They  carried  guns  on  their  shoulders 


"They  turned  and  saw  an  Indian 
running  toward  them" 

and  their  game  bags  were  heavy  with  the  wild 
ducks  they  were  bringing  home. 

164 


Friends  or  Foes?  165 

Suddenly  they  heard  a  light,  quick  step  on  the 
dry  leaves  behind  them.  They  turned  and  saw 
an  Indian  running  toward  them.  He  pointed  to 
the  sea  and  tried  to  tell  them  something,  but  the 
Englishmen  could  not  understand  his  language. 

The  three  men  hurried  to  the  village,  and 
Squanto  was  called  to  the  common-house.  To 
him  the  Indian  told  his  message. 

"He  says  a  great  ship  is  coming,"  said  Squanto. 
"It  is  not  far  away.  He  thinks  it  is  a  French 
ship." 

Governor  Bradford  looked  sorely  troubled. 
The  French  were  not  friendly  with  the  English. 
If  their  ship  came  to  Plymouth  it  would  try  to 
capture  the  town.  The  governor  thanked  the 
Indian  for  coming  to  warn  him  of  the  danger,  and 
gave  him  presents  and  food. 

Soon  every  one  in  the  town  knew  the  word  which 
the  Indian  had  brought.  Governor  Bradford 
ordered  a  cannon  to  be  fired  to  call  home  any 
who  were  away  hunting  or  fishing. 

Nearly  every  one  came  down  to  the  shore  to 
watch  for  the  ship.  They  had  not  waited  long 
when  a  sail  appeared  around  the  point.  Yes, 
it  was  coming  straight  toward  Plymouth  harbor. 

Captain  Miles  Standish  and  some  of  the  other 
men  hurried  to  the  cannon  on  the  hill.  They 
carefully  aimed  them  at  the  coming  vessel. 

"If  it  is  the  ship  of  an  enemy,  we  will  be  ready 


1 66  Pilgrim  Stories 

for  it,"  said  the  captain.  Every  man,  and  every 
boy  who  was  big  enough,  carried  a  gun. 

As  the  boat  drew  nearer,  the  people  became 
more  and  more  excited.  Hardly  a  word  was 
spoken,  but  their  white  faces  showed  how  anxious 
they  were. 

They  shaded  their  eyes  with  their  hands  and 


''All  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  masthead" 

tried  to  see  what  flag  floated  from  its  mast.  In 
every  heart  was  a  prayer  that  it  might  be  that  of 
old  England. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  ship.  All  eyes 
were  fixed  upon  the  masthead.  Now  a  flash  of 
white  could  be  seen,  but  what  were  the  darker 


Friends  or  Foes?  167 

colors?  Breathless  they  waited.  As  the  flag 
again  fluttered  in  the  breeze,  a  bright  red  cross 
flashed  into  sight. 

"The  flag  of  old  England!"  "It  is  an  English 
ship!"  "An  English  ship!"  The  hills  rang  with 
their  joyful  shouts. 

From  the  cannon  on  the  fort  a  roar  of  welcome 
boomed  across  the  water,  and  a  minute  later 
came  an  answer  from  the  cannon  on  the  ship. 

Priscilla  darted  away  up  the  hill  to  the  elder's 
cottage,  where  Mistress  Brewster,  too  weak  to 
leave  the  house,  sat  waiting  at  the  window. 
One  glance  at  Priscilla's  sunny  face  told  her  the 
ship  was  from  England. 

"Oh,  mother  dear,  it  is  an  English  ship.  Per 
haps  Patience  and  Fear,  or  Jonathan  is  upon  it," 
cried  Priscilla.  "Sit  close  to  the  window,  and  I 
will  run  home  and  tell  you  'when  I  see  them." 
Leaving  Mistress  Brewster  with  her  face  buried 
in  her  trembling  hands,  the  girl  hurried  back  to 
the  shore.  There  the  children  who  had  been 
silent  with  fright  now  shouted  and  ran  up  and 
down  the  beach.  They  could  hardly  wait  for  the 
ship  to  land. 

"I  hope  my  brother  Jonathan  is  on  that  boat," 
said  Love  Brewster,  hopping  first  on  one  foot  and 
then  on  the  other. 

"So  do  I,"  cried  one  of  the  others.  "Let  us 
play  this  is  a  fairy  ship,  and  will  bring  each  of  us 


1 68  Pilgrim  Stories 

one  wij»h.  You  are  the  littlest,  Samuel,  so  you 
may  wish  first." 

"I  wish  it  would  bring  some  more  little  children 
to  play  with.  You  big  boys  never  let  me  play 
with  you." 

"That  is  because  you  can't  run  fast  enough, 
Samuel.  You  would  get  lost.  What  do  you 
wish  for,  Francis  Billington?" 

"I  wish  it  would  bring  me  a  soldier  suit  and  a 
sword  like  the  captain's  'Gideon,' "  said  Francis. 
This  was  a  wild  wish  indeed.  Who  ever  heard 
of  a  little  boy  having  a  soldier  suit  and  a  sword! 

Giles  Hopkins  would  not  waste  his  wish  on 
anything  which  he  knew  could  not  come  true. 

"I  wish  it  would  bring  the  cow  we  left  in  England. 
I  am  so  hungry  for  some  milk,  and  butter,  and 
cheese.  I  am  just  tired  of  beans,  and  bread  with 
no  butter." 

"Be  glad  you  have  the  beans  and  bread,  Giles," 
said  Priscilla,  coming  up  behind  them.  "Elder 
Brewster  says  there  is  hardly  enough  corn  to  last 
through  the  winter,  and  the  other  grain  is  nearly 
gone.  We  had  better  wish  the  fairy  ship  would 
bring  us  more  meal." 

Just  then  a  small  boat  was  lowered  from  the 
side  of  the  ship.  All  watched  to  see  the  men 
climb  down  the  rope  ladder  into  it,  though  they 
could  not  see  who  they  were  at  this  distance. 

Some  of  the  Pilgrims  were  expecting  brothers, 


Friends  or  Foes?  i6g 

some  were  looking  for  sons  or  daughters,  others 
for  friends  It  seemed  to  those  on  shore  that  the 
men  rowed  very  slowly. 

But  at  last  the  little  boat  touched  the  stone 
which  we  call  Plymouth  Rock.  Almost  the  first 
to  leap  ashore  was  Elder  Brewster's  oldest  son. 
Little  Love  had  his  "wish." 

There  were  other  dear  old  friends  who  had  been 
left  in  England  or  Holland,  and  there  were  some 
people  whom  the  Pilgrims  did  not  know,  about 
thirty-five  in  all.  How  glad  the  Pilgrims  were  to 
see  them! 

When  the  captain  of  the  vessel  came  ashore, 
he  brought  a  large  bag  of  mail.  It  was  now  just 
a  year  since  the  "Mayflower"  had  brought  the 
little  band  of  Pilgrims  to  this  new  land.  In  all 
this  time  they  had  not  heard  one  word  from  the 
friends  at  home.  Now  there  were  letters  for  all. 

The  candles  burned  late  in  Plymouth  that  night. 
In  Elder  Brewster's  home  the  last  candle  had 
flickered  and  gone  out,  but  still  the  family  sat 
about  the  blazing  fire  and  listened  while  Jonathan 
told  them  of  Fear  and  Patience,  and  of  many  old 
friends  in  Holland. 

The  ship  had  not  brought  the  provisions  which  the 
Pilgrims  so  much  needed .  It  had  not  even  brought 
food  for  its  passengers.  There  had  been  hardly 
enough  for  the  voyage,  and  the  Pilgrims  must 
give  the  sailors  food  for  the  trip  back  to  England. 


170  Pilgrim  Stories 

After  that,  they  would  have  barely  corn  enough 
for  themselves  during  the  long  winter;  yet  here 
were  thirty-five  more  hungry  mouths  to  be  fed. 
What  had  been  a  bountiful  supply  of  food  for 
fifty  was  a  very  small  amount  for  eighty-five. 

But  the  corn,  and  the  barley,  and  the  dried 
fruits,  and  smoked  fish  were  equally  divided 
among  them.  They  must  all  have  been  hungry 
many  times,  but  none  died  for  want  of  food. 

The  Pilgrims  tried  to  buy  corn  from  the  Indians 
who  lived  near  by,  but  they  had  none  to  spare. 
The  snow  was  so  deep  and  the  ice  so  thick  that 
hunting  and  fishing  were  almost  impossible. 

Winter  dragged  slowly.  The  food  was  nearly 
gone.  Something  must  be  done  very  soon. 
So  Governor  Bradford  and  a  few  others  rowed 
away  to  buy  food  from  a  tribe  of  Indians  who  lived 
a  long  way  from  Plymouth.  They  were  gone 
many  days,  but  when  they  returned  their  boat 
was  well  loaded  with  baskets  of  corn. 

At  last  spring  came.  The  streams  were  full  of 
fish.  Deer,  wild  turkeys,  and  other  game  could 
be  found  in  the  forest,  and  there  was  food  enough 
for  all. 

It  was  not  long  before  many  new  cabins  were 
built  along  Leiden  Street,  and  other  streets  were 
being  made.  Scores  of  new  farms  were  cleared 
that  summer,  and  soon  the  sunny  hillsides  rocked 
with  the  waving  grain. 


Friends  or  Foes?  171 

During  the  spring  and  summer  several  other 
ships  came,  bringing  hundreds  of  passengers. 
These  people  did  not  all  settle  at  Plymouth.  They 
made  homes  for  themselves  and  formed  new 
towns,  or  settlements,  a  few  miles  away. 

At  last  the  smoke  went  curling  up  from  many 
chimneys  in  New  England,  as  this  part  of  our 
country  is  still  called.  One  of  these  towns  was 
Boston,  another  was  Salem,  and  there  were 
many  others.  They  were  all  very  friendly  with 
one  another,  and  the  people  were  never  again  so 
sad  or  lonely  as  the  Pilgrims  had  been. 


TIT  FOR  TAT 

DO  any  of  you  know  where  Squanto  is? 
asked  Miles  Standish,  coming  into  the 
common-house  where  Governor  Bradford 
and  Edward  Winslow  sat  writing.  "I  can  see 
an  Indian  running  down  the  beach  toward  the 
town;  I  suppose  he  is  a  messenger." 

"Squanto  has  gone  to  the  forest  to  hunt  deer, 
and  will  not  be  home  until  night,"  answered  the 
governor.  "Bring  the  Indian  here  and  perhaps 
Winslow  can  understand  his  message." 

So  Miles  Standish  left  the  room,  and  soon 
returned  with  the  Indian,  who  carried  in  his  hand 
a  bundle  of  arrows  wrapped  round  with  the 
skin  of  a  large  snake. 

The  Indian  did  not  return  the  governor's 
friendly  greeting.  Throwing  the  bundle  of  arrows 
upon  the  table,  with  an  ugly  rattle,  he  gave  them 
his  message.  But  Governor  Bradford  and 
Miles  Standish  did  not  know  what  he  said,  and 
Edward  Winslow  could  understand  a  word  only 
now  and  then. 

When  the  Indian  had  finished  speaking,  he 
turned  to  leave  the  village,  but  Governor  Bradford 
would  not  let  him  go.  "You  must  wait  until 
Squanto  comes  to  tell  us  your  message,"  Winslow 
explained  to  him. 


Tit  far  Tat 


173 


Captain  Standish  was  given  charge  of  the 
Indian,  and  he  took  his  unwilling  guest  home  to 
dinner.  But  the  messenger  had  heard  wonderful 
tales  about  the  "Thunder  Chief,"  as  the  savages 
called  Captain  Standish.  Many  of  the  Indians 


.  .  filled  the  snake  skin  with 
powder  and  shot" 

believed  he  had  the  deadly  black  sickness  buried 
under  his  cabin  and  could  send  it  upon  his  enemies 
if  he  wished.     The  Indian  was  too  frightened  to 
eat,  and  insisted  upon  returning  to  his  people. 
Night  came,   and  Squanto  had  not  returned. 


Pilgrim  Stories 

Governor  Bradford  came  over  to  the  captain's 
cottage  and  found  the  Indian  walking  angrily  up 
and  down  the  room. 

"It  is  not  right  to  hold  a  messenger  against  his 
wish,"  said  the  governor.  "We  will  have  to  let 
him  go."  So  the  Indian  was  set  free  and  he 
quickly  sped  out  of  the  town. 

The  next  morning  when  Squanto  returned,  the 
snake  skin  of  arrows  was  shown  to  him.  "What 
do  you  understand  these  arrows  to  mean?"  asked 
the  captain. 

Squanto' s  eyes  flashed  with  anger.  "Arrows 
say,  'Come  out  and  fight.'  Soon  many  arrows 
fly  in  this  village.  Many  white  men  die. ' ' 

"Our  bullets  fly  farther  than  arrows.  We  are 
not  afraid,"  answered  Bradford.  He  threw  the 
arrows  upon  the  ground  and  filled  the  snake  skin 
with  powder  and  shot.  Handing  it  to  Squanto, 
he  said,  "Take  that  to  the  chief.  Tell  him  we 
have  done  him  no  harm,  but  we  are  ready  to  fight 
if  he  comes." 

Two  days  later  Squanto  reached  the  village  of  the 
chief  who  had  sent  the  arrows.  These  Indians  did 
not  own  Massasoit  as  their  king.  They  had  never 
been  friends  with  the  white  man.  From  a  safe  hid 
ing  place  they  had  seen  the  second  ship  land  its 
company  of  Englishmen  upon  their  shores.  "W"e 
will  make  war  upon  them,  and  kill  them  all  now 
while  they  are  so  few,"  said  their  chief. 

i 


Tit  for  Tat 


Squanto  went  at  once  to  the  wigwam  of  the 
chief.  "The  white  men  send  you  their  thunder 
and  lightning,"  he  said,  handing  the  chief  the 
glistening  snake  skin. 

The  Indians  had  heard  of  the  deadly  weapon  of 


"The  white  men  send  you  their  thunder 
and  lightning" 

the  white  man.  A  few  of  them  had  even  heard 
its  thunder,  but  none  of  them  had  ever  touched 
a  gun  or  seen  powder  and  shot. 

The  Indians  crowded  around  to  see  the  strange 


ij6  Pilgrim  Stories 

bundle,  but  not  one  of  them  would  touch  it.  The 
chief  would  not  have  it  in  his  wigwam  a  minute 
He  ordered  Squanto  to  take  it  back  to  Plymouth, 
but  he  would  not.  "There  is  plenty  more  there," 
said  Squanto.  "When  you  come  you  shall  have 
it."  Then  he  turned  and  left  the  village. 

The  chief  then  called  another  messenger  and 
told  him  to  take  the  hated  bundle  away,  anywhere 
out  of  his  country.  So  the  messenger  carried  it 
to  another  tribe,  but  they  would  have  none  of  it. 
It  was  passed  from  one  Indian  village  to  another, 
leaving  terror  in  its  path.  At  last,  after  many 
weeks,  the  snake  skin  of  powder  returned  unopened 
to  Plymouth. 

That  was  all  the  Pilgrims  ever  heard  of  war  with 
those  Indians.  But  they  thought  it  wise  to  pro 
tect  their  town  better,  so  a  high  fence  of  pointed 
posts  was  built  all  about  the  town.  For  many 
weeks  a  watchman  was  kept  at  the  gate  night  and 
day. 


MASSASOIT  AND  THE  MEDICINE  MEN 

ONE  cold  March  day  another  Indian  mes 
senger  appeared  at  the  gate  of  Plymouth. 
He  had  been  running  many  miles,  and  his 
body  was  wet  and  his  veins  were  swollen. 

"English  friends  come  quick!"  he  cried.  "Chief 
Massasoit  much  sick!  Soon  die!" 

This  was  sad  news  to  the  Pilgrims,  for  Massasoit 
was  their  best  friend  among  the  Indians. 

It  was  decided  that  Edward  Winslow  should  be 
one  of  those  to  go  with  the  messenger,  for  he  was 
a  good  nurse,  and  he  knew  something  of  the  Indian 
language. 

The  messenger  was  in  too  great  a  hurry  to  eat 
the  food  they  gave  him.  He  could  hardly  wait  for 
Edward  Winslow  to  prepare  the  medicines  and  food 
he  wished  to  take  Massasoit.  "Great  chief  die 
soon !"  he  moaned.  ' '  Not  see,  not  eat,  for  four  days. ' ' 

Soon  the  basket  was  ready  and  Winslow  and 
another  Englishman  followed  the  guide  into  the 
forest.  Faster  and  faster  went  the  Indian,  until 
the  men  could  hardly  keep  up.  Often  the  guide 
was  so  far  ahead  that  he  was  almost  lost  to  sight. 

He  must  have  thought  the  Englishmen  very 
slow.  He  feared  Massasoit  would  not  live  until 
they  reached  the  village. 

Indians  do  not  usually  say  much  about  their 


i  7 '8  Pilgrim  Stories 

joys  or  sorrows,  but  Edward  Winslow  has  told  us 
how  deeply  this  guide  grieved  for  his  beloved 
chief.  Often  he  would  cry  in  his  own  language, 
"Oh,  my  chief!  My  loving  chief!  I  have  known 
many  brave  warriors,  but  none  so  brave,  so  kind, 
so  just  as  Massasoit!" 

Sometimes  he  would  say,  "Oh,  Master  Winslow, 
what  friend  will  your  people  have  among  the 
Indians  when  Massasoit  is  gone?" 

On  and  on  they  hurried,  hardly  stopping  to  eat 
or  rest.  It  was  now  two  days  since  they  left 
Plymouth.  The  sun  had  gone  down  in  a  bank  of 
clouds,  and  already  the  shadows  were  black  and 
deep  in  the  forest. 

The  wind  whistled  through  the  tree  tops,  and 
soon  a  fine,  sharp  sleet  began  to  fall.  It  was  a 
bad  night  to  be  in  the  woods,  but  the  guide  told 
them  that  the  village  was  not  far  off. 

Above  the  voice  of  the  storm  came  a  distant 
moaning.  At  first  Winslow  thought  it  was  the 
sound  of  a  great  waterfall. 

"It  sounds  more  like  owls,  or  the  cry  of  some 
animal,"  said  his  companion. 

But  the  guide  knew  the  sound  came  from  the 
wigwam  of  Massasoit,  and  again  he  moaned, 
"Oh,  my  chief!  My  chief !" 

Now  and  then  a  gleam  of  light  could  be  seen 
among  the  trees.  Presently,  in  a  little  clearing, 
thev  came  unon  the  Indian  village.  A  great 


Massasoit  and  the  Medicine  Men         i~g 

camp  fire  threw  its  unsteady  light  upon  the 
wigwams  about  it. 

The  lodge  of  Massasoit  was  larger  than  the 
others.  There  were  pictures  painted  upon  its 
sides,  telling  of  the  great  deeds  of  Massasoit  and 
his  people. 

Before  the  door  of  the  wigwam  hung  a  curtain 
of  fine  fur.  Winslow  pushed  aside  the  curtain, 
but  the  room  was  so  full  of  visitors  that  he  could 
hardly  enter. 

The  poor  old  chief  lay  on  his  cot.  His  eyes  were 
closed.  He  could  no  longer  see  the  friends 
about  him.  "He  is  dying,"  said  an  Indian  who 
stood  near,  rubbing  the  chief's  cold  hands. 

In  a  circle  about  the  cot  were  five  or  six  Indian 
medicine  men.  Their  half -naked  bodies  were 
painted  in  many  colors;  upon  their  heads  they 
wore  the  horns  and  skins  of  beasts.  They  danced 
about  the  chief,  leaping,  yelling,  and  waving  their 
arms  to  frighten  the  sickness  away. 

Poor  Massasoit!     No  wonder -he  was  dying. 

When  the  Indians  saw  the  white  men,  they  told 
Massasoit  that  his  English  friends  had  come  to 
help  him.  The  great  chief  loved  Winslow,  and 
put  out  his  hand  to  welcome  him. 

"Your  friends  at  Plymouth  are  all  grieved  to 
hear  of  your  illness,"  said  Edward  Winslow,  in  the 
Indian  language.  "Our  governor  has  sent  you 
some  things  which  will  help  to  make  you  well." 


180  Pilgrim  Stories 

But  Massasoit  only  shook  his  head.  He  did 
not  think  he  could  get  well.  His  mouth  and 
throat  were  so  sore  he  could  scarcely  swallow,  so 
he  had  eaten  nothing  for  days. 

Winslow  opened  his  basket  and  took  out  two 


"They  danced  about  the  chief  .  .  .  to  frighten 
the  sickness  away" 

little  jars  of  food  which  he  had  brought,  the 
Indians  crowding  around  to  see.  But,  alas,  the 
bottle  of  medicine  he  needed  was  broken.  There 
was  not  a  drop  left. 

He  mixed  the  food  with  a  little  warm  water  and 


Massasoit  and  the  Medicine  Men         181 

put  some  of  it  into  the  chief's  mouth.  Massasoit 
seemed  to  enjoy  the  dainty  food  which  Winslow 
fed  him,  and  whispered,  "More." 

The  Indians  had  not  forgotten  the  broth  they 
had  at  the  Feast  of  Thanksgiving.  "Massasoit 
will  get  better  if  you  give  him  white-man's 
broth,"  said  one  of  them. 

Only  Priscilla  knew  what  was  needed  to  make 
and  flavor  that  soup.  There  was  nothing  here  of 
which  to  make  it,  even  if  Winslow  had  known  how. 

So  he  wrote  a  note  asking  Doctor  Fuller  to  send 
such  medicine  as  Massasoit  needed,  and,  also,  a 
pair  of  chickens  and  whatever  else  was  necessary 
to  make  a  good  broth.  A  fresh  messenger  sped 
swiftly  toward  Plymouth  with  the  note. 

There  was  no  fresh  meat  in  the  lodge,  but 
Winslow  must  make  a  broth  of  some  kind.  In  a 
large  earthen  bowl  he  saw  some  corn.  He  asked 
one  of  the  squaws  to  pound  it  into  meal,  and  when 
this  had  been  done  he  made  a  thin  soup  of  it. 

In  the  woods  near  the  wigwam  he  found  some 
sweet  roots  and  some  fresh,  young  strawberry 
leaves.  When  he  had  flavored  the  soup  with 
these,  it  was  very  good,  and  the  chief  drank  it 
eagerly.  He  was  getting  better.  He  was  soon 
so  much  better  that  he  was  able  to  see  again. 

Then  Winslow  bathed  his  face  and  hands,  gave 
him  a  drink  of  cool  water,  and  bade  the  Indians 
go  away  and  leave  him  in  quiet. 


182  Pilgrim  Stories 

This  was  just  what  Massasoit  needed,  and  he 
soon  fell  asleep.  When  the  messenger  returned, 
the  chief  was  so  much  better  that  he  did  not  need 
the  medicine. 

Of  course  Massasoit  now  loved  the  English  more 
than  ever.  He  told  all  his  friends  what  had  been 
done  for  him.  After  that  many  Indians  came  to 
Plymouth  to  get  help  for  their  sick  friends. 

The  Englishmen  taught  them  to  make  broth. 
They  taught  them  that  good  food,  fresh  air,  and 
pure  water  would  help  them  more  than  all  the 
noise  and  dances  of  medicine  men. 


TROUBLES  WITH  THE  INDIANS 

MANY  years  had  passed  since  the  colonists 
first  landed  in  New  England.  All  this 
time  they  had  lived  at  peace  with  the 
Indians.  The  savages  often  came  to  the  villages 
to  trade  with  the  white  men.  They  came  to  their 
houses,  and  many  of  them  learned  to  speak  a 
little  English. 

But  the  Indians  were  not  all  so  friendly  as 
Samoset,  Squanto,  and  Massasoit.  Many  of  them 
hated  the  white  men  and  would  have  killed  them  if 
they  had  dared. 

"See  their  cattle  in  our  meadows,"  they  said. 

"They  cut  down  our  forests,  and  the  deer  no 
longer  feed  here,"  said  others. 

"They  are  not  your  forests  and  fields  now,"  said 
Massasoit.  "You  sold  them  to  the  white  men." 

The  Indians  did  not  care  for  money.  It  was  not 
pretty.  They  liked  bright  beads  and  shining 
buttons  better.  They  liked  English  knives  and 
gay  red  blankets. 

But  after  a  while  the  beads  were  lost  and  the 
blankets  were  worn  out.  The  land  which  they 
had  given  for  them  did  not  wear  out  or  get  lost. 
The  Indians  looked  at  the  rich  farms;  then  they 
looked  at  their  broken  knives  and  ragged  blankets. 

"The  palefaces  have  cheated  us,"  they  cried  to 


184  Pilgrim  Stories 

their  chief.  "Let  us  make  war  upon  them.  Let 
us  drive  them  from  our  land." 

But  Massasoit  never  forgot  the  promise  he  had 
made  the  white  men  so  long  ago.  "They  are  our 
brothers,"  he  said.  "We  will  not  harm  them. 
Have  you  forgotten  how  they  came  to  my  lodge 
when  I  might  have  died  ?  They  have  made  schools 
for  you;  they  have  cared  for  you  when  you  were 
sick.  They  have  paid  you  what  you  asked  for 
your  land.  They  have  kept  their  promise  to  us. 
We  will  keep  our  promise  to  them." 

So  as  long  as  good  Massasoit  lived,  the  Indians 
made  the  Pilgrims  no  trouble.  He  was  a  great 
chief  and  many  tribes  obeyed  him. 

But  at  last  a  sad  day  came  when  Massasoit  lay 
still  in  his  wigwam.  His  friends,  the  English 
men,  stood  around  him,  but  they  could  not  help 
him  now.  The  great  chief  was  dead. 

After  Massasoit' s  death  his  oldest  son  became 
chief.  He  was  not  very  friendly  toward  the  white 
men. 

It  was  nearly  fifty  years  since  the  Pilgrims  had 
founded  Plymouth.  In  that  time  thousands  of 
Englishmen  had  come  to  New  England,  and  there 
were  also  colonists  from  France,  Holland,  and 
other  countries. 

Most  of  these  people  had  come  to  gain  wealth. 
They  wanted  the  lands  the  Indians  owned,  and 
often  fought  for  them  instead  of  paying  for  them. 


Troubles  with  the  Indians  185 

Often  they  were  unjust  and  in  many  ways  very 
cruel  to  the  Indians. 

One  day  the  new  chief  went  to  Plymouth  to 
talk  the  matter  over  with  his  father's  old  friends. 
While  he  was  there  he  became  very  ill.  The 
colonists  took  good  care  of  him  and  tried  to  make 
him  well,  but  in  a  few  days  he  died. 

After  his  death  his  younger  brother,  Philip, 
became  chief.  He  hated  all  white  men  and  wished 
to  be  rid  of  them.  He  believed  they  had  killed 
his  brother  at  Plymouth,  and  this  made  him  hate 
them  all  the  more. 

So  he  sent  word  to  many  other  tribes,  saying 
that  he  was  going  to  make  war  upon  the  settlers 
and  asking  them  to  join  him.  "We  are  stronger 
than  the  white  men,  now,"  said  he,  "and  if  we  all 
join  in  this  war  we  can  easily  kill  or  drive  them 
all  out  of  the  country." 

Swift  Indian  runners  carried  the  message  to 
the  chiefs  of  other  tribes.  But  they  had  seen  how 
cruelly  the  white  men  punished  the  Indians  who 
tried  to  harm  them,  and  were  afraid. 

One  band  of  Indians  had  tried  to  kill  the  people 
of  a  little  town  not  far  from  Plymouth,  and  the 
white  men  had  destroyed  the  whole  tribe.  So 
the  chiefs  of  the  other  tribes  told  Philip  they 
would  not  join  his  war. 

But  Philip  believed  that  his  tribes  alone  were 
strong  enough  to  drive  out  the  colonists,  and  a 


'Suddenly  the  air  rang  with  the  yells  of  the  savages' 


Troubles  with  the  Indians  187 

terrible  war  was  begun  which  we  call  King  Philip's 
War. 

The  Indians  never  came  out  in  open  battle  to 
fight  like  soldiers.  They  usually  hid  in  the  forest 
near  some  village  until  night,  when  the  people 
were  quietly  sleeping;  then,  with  terrible  whoops 
and  yells,  they  swept  down  upon  it,  burning  the 
houses  and  killing  as  many  people  as  they  could. 

Near  King- Philip's  home  was  the  little  village 
of  Swansea,  and  the  chief  decided  this  should  be 
the  first  town  to  be  destroyed.  From  their  hiding 
place  in  the  forest  the  Indians  watched  for  a  good 
chance  to  make  the  attack. 

One  Sunday  morning,  when  all  the  people  of 
Swansea  were  at  church,  Philip  said,  "This  is  a 
good  time  to  get  rid  of  these  people.  We  will 
kill  them  all  at  once,  when  they  come  out  of  the 
meetinghouse." 

When  the  service  was  over,  the  people  came 
out  never  dreaming  of  the  dreadful  trouble  await 
ing  them.  Suddenly  the  air  rang  with  the  yells 
of  the  savages,  and  King  Philip  and  his  followers 
fell  upon  them. 

When  the  sun  set  that  day,  the  pretty  village 
was  in  ashes  and  the  streets  were  strewn  with  the 
dead  and  dying. 

Sometimes  a  small  band  of  Indians  went  into 
the  country  where  there  were  little  farms  far  from 
any  town.  They  watched  a  cabin  until  they  saw 


i88  Pilgrim  Stories 

the  men  of  the  family  go  into  the  field  to  work ; 
then,  slipping  up  to  the  house,  they  would  kill  or 
steal  the  women  and  children,  and  set  fire  to  the 
cottage. 

But  the  Indians  did  not  always  succeed  in  their 
cruel  work  of  destroying  homes.  Many  lives  and 
many  homes  were  saved  by  the  quick  wits  and 
brave  hearts  of  the  boys  and  girls  as  well  as  of  the 
older  people. 

In  the  following  pages  we  may  read  the 
experiences  of  some  of  the  children  in  those  early 
days  so  full  of  danger. 


II 


LITTLE  PILGRIMS 
AND  THE  RED  MEN 


THE  INDIANS  AND  THE 
JACK-O'-LANTERNS 

ON  a  little  farm  several  miles  from  any 
village,  lived  two  little  girls,  Prudence 
and  Endurance. 

There  were  no  other  children  near,  but  they 
were  never  lonely,  for  they  had  Whitefoot  and 
Fluff,  two  of  the  prettiest  kittens  you  ever  saw. 
They  had  old  Speckle  and  her  little  brood  of 
downy,  yellow  chicks.  Down  in  the  pasture  was 
Bess,  the  cow,  with  her  pretty  black  and  white 
calf.  This  was  the  greatest  pet  of  all. 

A  tribe  of  Indians  lived  in  the  forest  not  far 
away.  At  first  the  children  were  very  much 
afraid  of  them,  but  the  Indians  seemed  friendly 
and  made  many  visits  to  the  house  in  the  clearing. 

Sometimes  they  came  to  trade  their  furs  for  a 
kettle,  a  blanket,  or  something  else  which  they 
could  not  make. 

Once  a  squaw  came  to  bring  her  papoose,  who 
was  very  ill.  She  wanted  the  white  woman  to 
make  it  well.  The  kind  mother  cared  for  the 
Indian  baby  as  tenderly  as  though  it  were  her 
own.  Presently  the  little  one  was  much  better 
and  went  to  sleep  in  its  queer  little  cradle. 

The  Indian  woman  was  very  thankful.  She 
13  i$ 


IQO  Pilgrim  Stories 

gave  Prudence  a  pretty  little  pocket  trimmed  with 
beads.  Then  she  hung  the  papoose,  cradle  and 
all,  upon  her  back  and  went  home  to  her  wigwam, 
feeling  very  happy. 

One  October  day,  their  father  said  to  Prudence 


"She  gave  Prudence  a  pretty  little  pocket 
trimmed  with  beads" 

and  Endurance,  "Children,  mother  and  I  must  go 
to  the  village  to-day.  I  think  we  shall  be  home 
before  dark,  but  if  we  should  have  to  stay  away 
all  night,  do  you  think  you  are  big  enough  and 
brave  enough  to  keep  house  while  we  are  gone?" 


The  Indians  and  the  Jack-o' -Lanterns     igi 

"Oh,  yes,"  answered  the  children.  "We  shall 
not  be  afraid,  and  we  shall  be  too  busy  to  be 
lonely." 

"There  are  a  few  more  pumpkins  in  the  field; 
you  may  roll  them  in  and  pile  them  with  the 
others  beside  the  pit  I  have  dug  for  the  potatoes," 
said  their  father.  "If  you  wish,  you  may  have 
two  of  the  pumpkins  for  jack-o'-lanterns." 

"We  shall  try  to  be  back  before  dark,  but  if 
we  are  not  here,  just  bolt  the  doors  and  you  will 
be  all  right,"  said  the  mother,  as  she  kissed  the 
little  girls  good-bye.  "Don't  forget  to  cover  the 
fire  with  ashes  before  you  go  to  bed,"  she  called, 
as  she  rode  away. 

The  children  watched  their  parents  until  a  turn 
in  the  road  hid  them  from  sight ;  then  they  went 
in  to  finish  the  morning  work.  How  grand  they 
felt  to  be  real  housekeepers! 

Endurance  took  down  a  turkey  wing  from  its 
nail  in  the  chimney  corner,  and  brushed  the  hearth 
until  not  a  speck  of  dust  was  left  upon  it.  Then 
the  girls  swept  and  dusted  the  big  kitchen,  which 
was  also  the  sitting  room. 

When  it  was  time  to  get  dinner,  Endurance 
peeled  some  potatoes,  and  Prudence  put  more 
wood  on  the  fire  and  hung  a  kettle  of  water  over  it 
for  the  tea.  In  another  kettle  she  made  a  fine 
stew  of  meat  and  potatoes. 

It  seemed  rather  strange  to  sit  down  at  the 


1Q2  Pilgrim  Stories 

dinner  table  without  father  and  mother,  but  after 
all  it  was  great  fun,  for  Prudence  sat  in  mother's 
chair  and  poured  the  tea,  while  Endurance  served 
the  stew.  In  a  chair  between  them  sat  Betty,  the 
big  rag  doll,  but  she  did  not  seem  to  be  so  hungry 
as  the  little  housewives. 

After  the  dishes  were  washed  the  children 
scampered  to  the  field  close  by,  and  began  to  roll 
in  the  big  yellow  pumpkins. 

Late  that  afternoon  their  work  was  all  done, 
and  they  sat  down  behind  the  great  golden  pile 
and  began  to  make  their  jack-o'-lanterns.  At 
last  they  were  finished,  and  very  fierce  they  looked 
with  their  big  eyes  and  ugly  teeth. 

"Now  I  will  go  in  and  find  some  candle  ends, 
and  we  will  light  our  jack-o'-lanterns  as  soon  as 
it  is  dark,"  said  Endurance. 

When  she  was  gone,  Prudence  brought  an 
annful  of  straw,  and  jumping  into  the  pit,  began 
to  cover  the  earth  with  it.  Her  father  would  be 
surprised  to  find  the  potato  pit  so  nicely  lined 
with  clean  straw  when  he  came  home. 

While  she  was  at  work,  Prudence  heard  voices 
near  the  barn.  "Oh,  father  and  mother  have 
come!  I  am  so  glad  they  did  not  stay  all  night," 
thought  the  child,  climbing  out  of  the  pit  to  run 
to  meet  them. 

But  what  changed  her  happy  smile  to  a  look  of 
terror?  What  made  her  fall  back  upon  the  straw 


The  Indians  and  the  Jack-o' -Lanterns 

and  cover  her  face  with  her  hands?  It  was  not 
Dobbin  and  the  wagon  she  had  seen  at  the  barn 
door,  but  two  Indians.  One  glance  at  their 
fierce,  painted  faces  told  her  they  were  on  the 
warpath. 

For  a  few  minutes  she  dared  not  move  for  fear 
the  Indians  would  hear  her.  She  expected  every 
moment  to  be  dragged  from  her  hiding  place. 

Then  she  thought  of  her  sister.  What  if 
Endurance  should  come  out  of  the  house  and  be 
seen  by  the  Indians !  At  this  terrible  thought  she 
sprang  up  and  peeped  out  of  the  pit. 

At  first  she  could  see  nothing  of  the  Indians, 
but  soon  they  came  out  of  the  barn,  carrying  some 
pieces  of  harness  and  a  new  ax.  They  talked  in 
a  low  tone  and  pointed  toward  the  house,  then 
disappeared  behind  the  barn. 

When  they  were  gone,  Prudence  ran  into  the 
house,  crying,  "Oh,  Endurance!  Endurance! 
What  shall  we  do?  The  Indians!  Indians!" 

"Well,  they  will  not  hurt  us,"  said  Endurance. 
"They  often  come  here." 

"But  these  are  not  our  Indians.  They  belong 
to  another  tribe,  and  they  are  on  the  warpath. 
Oh,  such  terrible  Indians!  I  am  sure  they  will 
come  back  to-night  and  burn  the  house  and  kill 
or  steal  us." 

But  they  were  brave  little  girls  and  did  not  waste 
much  time  crying  over  this  trouble.  They  began 


Pilgrim  Stories 

to  plan  what  to  do.  "Let  us  light  our  lanterns 
and  hide  in  the  potato  pit,"  said  Endurance. 
"When  they  come  we  will  hold  up  our  lanterns 
and  frighten  them.  Mother  says  Indians  are 
very  much  afraid  of  things  they  cannot  under 
stand.  Perhaps  they  will  think  they  are  witches." 

As  soon  as  it  was  dark,  the  little  girls  lighted 
their  lanterns  and  crept  into  the  pit.  They  pulled 
some  boards  and  brush  over  the  hole  and  waited. 
It  seemed  to  them  they  had  waited  hours  and 
hours,  when  they  heard  soft  footsteps  coming 
toward  the  house. 

The  girls  watched.  In  the  darkness  they  could 
see  two  Indians  creeping  nearer  and  nearer,  until 
they  were  quite  close  to  the  pit. 

"Now!"  whispered  Endurance,  and  they  pushed 
their  jack-o'-lanterns  up  through  the  brush. 

The  Indians  were  so  astonished  that,  for  a 
moment,  they  stood  perfectly  still,  staring  at  the 
monsters.  Then,  with  a  yell  of  terror,  they 
dropped  their  tomahawks  and  ran  into  the  forest 
as  fast  as  they  could  go. 

All  night  long  the  girls  lay  in  the  pit.  When 
morning  came,  they  crept  out  and  looked  about. 
No  Indians  were  to  be  seen.  Beside  the  pit  lay 
the  tomahawks  and,  a  little  farther  away,  three 
eagle  feathers,  which  one  of  the  savages  had 
dropped  as  he  ran. 

When  their  father  and  mother  returned,  the 


The  Indians  and  the  Jack-o' -Lanterns     195 

children  told  the  story  of  the  Indians  and  the 
jack-o'-lanterns,  and  showed  the  feathers  and 
tomahawks. 

"My  brave,  brave  little  girls!"  whispered  their 
father,  as  he  held  them  close  in  his  arms. 

The  Indians  must  have  told  their  friends  about 
the  dreadful  sight  they  had  seen,  for  never  after 
would  an  Indian  go  near  that  house. 

"Ugh!  Ugh!  Fire  spirits!  Me  'fraid!  Fire 
spirits!"  they  would  say. 


Indian  cutting  birch  bark  for  a  canoe 


TWO  LITTLE  CAPTIVES 

ON  a  sunny  hillside,  near  the  river,  a  boy  was 
cutting  corn.  It  was  late  in  September, 
but  the  day  was  warm.  "This  is  just  the 
day  for  a  row  on  the  river,"  said  Isaac  Bradley  to 
himself. 

As  he  looked  over  the  bright,  smoothly -flowing 
water,  he  saw  a  little  boat  coming  toward  him. 
In  it,  as  the  boat  neared  the  shore,  he  saw  his 
friend  Joseph,  who  lived  in  the  village  of  Haver- 
hill  a  mile  farther  down  the  river. 

Joseph  tied  his  boat  to  the  root  of  a  tree  on  the 
bank,  and  came  up  into  the  field. 

"Get  your  line  and  let's  go  fishing,"  he  cried,  as 
he  climbed  the  hill. 

"I  cannot  go  until  I  finish  cutting  this  corn," 
answered  Isaac.  "There  are  only  a  few  rows 
more." 

"Give  me  a  knife  and  I  will  help  you,"  said 
Joseph. 

So  he  took  one  of  the  strong,  sharp,  corn  knives 
and  began  to  cut  the  dry  stalks  near  the  ground. 
In  those  days  no  one  had  thought  of  making  a 
corncutter  that  should  be  drawn  by  horses. 

Cutting  corn  with  a  knife  was  slow,  hard  work. 

When  they  reached  the  end  of  the  row,  the  boys 
stopped  to  rest.  How  warm  and  tired  they  were ! 

197 


ig8  Pilgrim  Stories 

They  were  on  the  top  of  the  hill  now,  near  the 
edge  of  the  woods.  The  forest  once  came  quite 
down  to  the  river.  It  had  taken  Mr.  Bradley, 
and  his  father  also,  many  years  to  clear  the  trees 
off  this  field. 

The  boys  sat  down  in  the  shade  of  a  tree  to  talk 
about  their  plans  for  the  afternoon.  Presently 
Joseph  said,  "Let  us  get  a  good,  cool  drink  from 
the  spring,  and  then  finish  cutting  that  corn." 

Near  the  edge  of  the  forest  a  spring  of  clear, 
cold  water  bubbled  up  out  of  the  rocks.  A  tiny 
stream  flowed  from  the  spring  and  danced  merrily 
down  the  hillside  to  join  the  broad  river. 

Joseph  and  Isaac  knelt  on  the  mossy  rocks  to 
drink.  Suddenly  two  painted  Indian  warriors 
sprang  from  behind  the  bushes  and  seized  the 
boys. 

The  frightened  boys  gave  a  loud,  wild  scream 
for  help,  but  the  rough  hands  of  the  savages 
quickly  covered  their  mouths,  hushing  their  cries. 

Mr.  Bradley  was  at  work  at  the  other  end  of  the 
field.  He  heard  the  scream  and  hurried  to  the 
spring,  but  the  boys  were  not  to  be  found.  In 
the  soft  earth  about  the  spring  he  saw  the  prints 
of  Indian  moccasins. 

Meanwhile,  the  boys  were  being  hurried  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  forest.  On  and  on  they  went, 
wading  streams  and  climbing  rocky  hillsides. 
The  thick  branches  tore  their  clothes  and  scratched 


Two  Little  Captives 


199 


their  skin.     At  last  they  were  so  tired  they  could 
hardly  walk. 

The  Indians  allowed  them  to  rest  a  little  while, 
then  on  they  went  again.  Now  the  sun  had  set, 
and  it  was  almost  dark  in  the  forest.  Soon  they 


"Joseph  and  Isaac  knelt  on  the  mossy  rocks  to  drink" 

came  to  a  hollow  between  two  steep  hills.  Beside 
a  little  camp  fire  sat  two  more  Indians.  Several 
ponies  were  tied  to  the  trees  close  by. 

The    Indians    unbound     their     captives    and 


200  Pilgrim  Stories 

motioned  to  them  to  sit  down  by  the  fire  and 
then  they  began  to  cook  a  supper  of  deer  meat. 
They  gave  the  boys  a  handful  of  parched  corn 
and  some  of  the  meat. 

After  the  supper  was  eaten,  all  but  one  of  the 
Indians  lay  down  near  the  fire  to  sleep,  making 
signs  for  Joseph  and  Isaac  to  sleep  too. 

Poor  boys!  How  could  they  sleep  with  those 
fierce  savages  beside  them?  The  great,  dark 
forest  was  all  about  them,  and  they  were 
many  miles  from  home  and  parents. 

Joseph  lay  on  his  blanket  and  cried  bitterly. 
Isaac,  who  was  four  years  older,  tried  to  comfort 
him. 

"Don't  cry,  Joseph,"  he  whispered.  "I  am 
sure  father  and  other  men  from  Haverhill  will 
soon  find  us.  No  doubt  they  are  on  our  trail  this 
very  minute.  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  they 
came  before  morning." 

"They  can't  find  us,"  sobbed  Joseph.  "They 
do  not  know  which  way  we  have  gone." 

"The  dogs  will  know.  They  can  easily  find  the 
way,"  answered  Isaac,  cheerfully. 

The  next  morning  as  soon  as  it  began  to  be 
light,  the  Indians  awoke.  They  placed  the  boys 
upon  ponies,  and,  quickly  mounting  their  own, 
led  the  way  through  the  forest.  All  day  they  rode, 
stopping  only  two  or  three  times  to  eat  and  rest. 

Although  Joseph  was  but  eight  years  old,  he  was 


Two  Little  Captives  201 

almost  as  large  as  Isaac ;  but  he  was  not  so  strong, 
nor  so  brave-hearted.  Every  time  they  stopped 
to  get  a  drink,  or  to  rest,  Joseph  was  sure  the 
Indians  intended  to  kill  them. 

"If  they  had  intended  to  kill  us,  they  would 
have  done  it  before  now,"  said  Isaac.  "I  think 
they  mean  to  take  us  to  their  camp  and  make  us 
work  for  them.  Or  perhaps  they  mean  to  sell  us 
to  the  French;  but  we  can  get  away  from  them 
before  that." 

"Perhaps  our  fathers  and  the  soldiers  from  the 
fort  will  come  and  get  us,"  said  Joseph,  more 
cheerfully. 

Just  before  night  they  came  in  sight  of  a  large 
beautiful  lake.  The  water  glowed  with  the  soft 
colors  of  the  sunset.  About  the  lake  were  great, 
dark  pine  trees,  and  maples  with  leaves  as  bright 
as  flame. 

Suddenly  the  boys  saw  the  light  of  a  camp  fire 
shining  through  the  trees.  Then  the  whole  camp 
could  be  plainly  seen.  It  seemed  to  the  frightened 
boys  that  there  were  dozens  of  wigwams  in  the 
village. 

As  they  came  nearer,  they  saw  the  dark  forms 
of  Indians  moving  about  the  fire.  An  Indian 
woman  was  roasting  a  large  piece  of  meat  on  a 
forked  stick. 

When  the  Indians  rode  into  the  camp  with  their 
captives,  the  people  all  crowded  around  to  see 


202  Pilgrim  Stories 

them.  They  smiled  when  they  saw  the  boys' 
white,  frightened  faces. 

The  little  Indians  looked  at  them  with  wide, 
wondering  eyes.  They  had  never  seen  white 
children  before.  They  pointed  to  Isaac's  jacket 
and  heavy  shoes.  When  they  saw  Joseph's  light, 
curly  hair,  they  'all  began  to  laugh.  I  suppose 
they  wondered  how  a  boy  could  have  hair  like 
that,  for  Indians  always  have  black  hair  and  it 
is  never  curly. 

After  a  supper  of  corn  bread  and  fish,  the  boys 
were  given  a  bed  on  a  blanket  in  one  of  the 
wigwams. 

When  all  was  quiet,  Joseph  whispered  softly, 
"Our  fathers  can  never  find  us  here.  I  am  sure 
they  cannot." 

"No,"  answered  Isaac,  "I  am  afraid  they  can't. 
But  we  must  not  let  the  Indians  know  we  are 
unhappy.  We  will  stay  near  the  camp  and  try  to  do 
just  as  they  tell  us.  When  they  see  that  we  do  not 
try  to  run  away,  they  will  not  watch  us  so  closely. 
Sometime  we  shall  be  able  to  escape." 

The  next  morning  an  Indian  woman  led  Isaac 
and  Joseph  to  a  large  stone  bowl  under  a  tree. 
She  poured  some  corn  into  the  bowl  and  showed 
them  how  to  pound  it  with  a  stone  mallet.  This 
is  the  way  the  Indians  make  meal  for  their  bread. 
It  is  very  hard  work,  and  it  takes  a  long  time  to 
make  a  bowl  of  meal. 


Two  Little  Captives 


203 


While  the  boys  were  pounding  the  corn,  two  of 
the  Indian  men  took  their  bows  and  arrows  and 
went  into  the  forest  to  hunt.  The  others  sat 
about  the  camp  fire  smoking  and  talking.  They 
never  offered  to  go  into  the  field  and  help  the 
women,  who  were  stripping  the  ears  of  corn  from 
the  stalks  and  putting  them  in  large  baskets. 


"She  showed  them  how  to  pound  corn  with 
a  stone  mallet" 

When  one  of  these  great  baskets  was  filled,  a  squaw 
knelt  beside  it,  and,  placing  its  strap  of  skin  across 
her  forehead,  raised  the  heavy  load  to  her  back. 

No  Indian  brave  would  work  in  the  cornfield 
or  carry  a  burden.  "That  work  is  for  squaws  and 
captives,"  they  said. 

As  the  Indians  sat  about  the  fire,  some  of  them 
made  snares  and  traps  to  catch  game.  When  the 


204  Pilgrim  Stories 

corn  in  the  bowl  was  all  ground,  one  of  the  men 
called  the  boys  to  him  and  showed  them  how  to 
make  a  whistle  to  call  the  wild  turkeys. 

Isaac  took  out  his  own  sharp  pocketkhife  to  cut 
the  reed.  The  Indians  all  wished  to  look  at  it; 
they  opened  its  two  large  blades  and  tried  them 
on  a  stick.  When  the  knife  came  back  to  the 
Indian  who  was  teaching  the  boys  to  make  the 
whistle,  he  kept  it  and  handed  Isaac  his  clumsy, 
dull  knife.  You  may  be  sure  Joseph  left  his  knife 
safe  in  his  pocket  after  he  had  seen  the  fate  of 
Isaac's. 

Presently  the  two  hunters  came  home ;  but  they 
did  not  bring  a  deer.  One  of  them  carried  a  branch 
from  which  nearly  all  the  leaves  had  been  stripped. 
He  called  the  women  of  his  family,  and,  giving 
them  a  leaf  from  the  branch,  sent  them  to  find  and 
bring  home  the  deer  he  had  killed. 

Scattered  here  and  there  on  the  ground  they 
found  leaves  like  the  one  they  carried.  Following 
this  leaf  trail,  they  at  last  found  the  dead  deer. 

When  they  had  brought  it  home,  they  took  off 
the  skin  and  cut  up  the  meat  to  be  cooked  or  dried. 
A  number  of  forked  stakes  were  driven  into  the 
ground  near  their  wigwam,  and  Joseph  and  Isaac 
helped  the  squaws  to  stretch  the  skin  upon  this 
frame,  to  dry. 

In  a  few  days  the  skin  was  hard  and  stiff,  but 
the  squaws  knew  how  to  make  it  soft  and  good  for 


Two  Little  Captives  205 

clothing.  One  brought  a  heavy  stone  mallet,  and 
patiently,  hour  after  hour,  she  rubbed  the  mallet 
to  and  fro  over  the  skin. 

Sometimes  the  boys  worked  upon  the  skin,  too. 
They  carried  water  from  the  spring  and  gathered 
brushwood  for  the  fires.  All  fall  they  worked 
about  the  camp  helping  the  squaws. 

But  it  was  not  all  work  and  no  play  for  the  little 
captives.  The  Indian  children  had  many  games, 
and  Joseph  and  Isaac  often  played  with  them. 
They  had  races  in  running  and  jumping.  They 
were  very  fond  of  a  game  called  "ball  in  the  grass." 

The  Indian  boys  made  bows  and  arrows  and 
practiced  shooting  at  marks  ori  the  trees.  In  a 
short  time  they  would  let  Joseph  and  Isaac  play 
this  game  with  them. 

Many  of  the  Indian  men  had  guns,  which  they 
had  bought  from  the  white  men.  Sometimes 
they  allowed  the  boys  to  shoot  with  these,  for  the 
Indians  wanted  the  captives  to  learn  to  shoot  well 
so  they  could  hunt  game  for  them. 

The  boys  learned  to  make  traps  to  catch  deer, 
bears,  rabbits,  and  other  animals.  They  could  make 
a  fire  by  rubbing  two  dry  sticks  together.  They 
could  skin  and  dress  game  of  all  kinds. 

When  the  winter  came  with  its  cold  and  snow, 
the  Indians  did  not  go  out  to  hunt  so  often.  The 
deer  were  very  hard  to  find.  Many  of  the  animals 
were  fast  asleep  in  their  cozy  "winter  homes.  The 


206  Pilgrim  Stories 

ducks  and  other  birds  had  gone  from  the  frozen 

marshes.     Sometimes  the  Indians  cut  holes  in  the 

ice  and  caught  fish.     Then  what  a  feast  they  had ! 

In  the  winter  the  camp  fires  were  made  in  the 


"They  practiced  shooting  at  marks  on  the  trees" 

wigwams.  The  braves  sat  about  the  fire  and 
made  arrows.  Some  of  the  arrowheads  were  made 
of  flint  or  of  other  stone.  The  Indians  had  no 


Two  Little  Captives  207 

sharp  tools  with  which  to  shape  the  arrowheads. 
They  had  to  chip  them  into  shape  with  another 
stone. 

Sometimes  the  arrows  were  tipped  with  a  sharp 
point  of  deer  horn,  or  the  spur  of  a  wild  turkey. 
The  arrowheads  were  bound  to  a  shaft  of  wood 
with  cords  of  deerskin. 

When  the  arrows  were  done,  the  Indian  marked 
them  so  that  he  could  always  tell  his  own.  If  two 
Indians  claimed  to  have  killed  the  same  deer,  a 
glance  at  the  arrow  sticking  in  it  settled  the 
question.  Indians  often  used  the  same  arrow 
many  times. 

As  the  Indians  sat  about  the  fire  making  arrow 
heads,  they  told  stories  of  the  great  deeds  they 
had  done.  Sometimes  they  told  the  beautiful 
legends  of  their  people. 

The  little  Indian  children  listened  to  these 
stories,  their  black  eyes  round  with  wonder. 
Joseph  and  Isaac  listened  too,  and  the  Indians 
would  have  been  surprised  to  know  how  much 
they  understood.  They  were  bright  boys,  and 
after  they  had  lived  in  the  camp  a  few  weeks  they 
knew  a  good  many  Indian  words.  As  time  went 
on,  they  learned  more  and  more  of  the  language. 

"We  must  not  let  the  Indians  know  that  we 
understand  them  so  well,  or  we  will  never  find  out 
what  they  mean  to  do  with  us,"  said  Isaac.  So 
they  pretended  to  be  very  stupid,  and  the  Indians 


208  Pilgrim  Stories 

talked  to  them  by  signs,  or  in  the  few  English 
words  they  knew. 

The  squaws,  too,  enjoyed  the  stories  the  braves 
told.  While  they  listened  their  quick  fingers 
worked  upon  a  pair  of  deerskin  leggins  or  other 
clothing.  One  of  the  women  made  Joseph  a  pair 
of  soft  deerskin  moccasins  and  trimmed  them  with 
beads.  She  made  the  soles  of  thick,  strong  skin. 
She  left  a  little  of  the  hair  on  the  skin  to  keep  his 
feet  from  slipping.  The  moccasins  were  very 
warm  and  comfortable,  and  made  no  noise  when 
Joseph  walked. 

In  the  wigwam  where  the  boys  lived  was  an 
old  grandmother,  wrinkled  and  bent  with  age. 
She  no  longer  worked  in  the  cornfields,  or  carried 
heavy  burdens  on  her  back  when  the  Indians 
moved  their  camp. 

Hanging  from  the  walls  of  the  wigwam  were 
bunches  of  long  grasses,  and  reeds,  and  the  fine 
fibers  of  the  cedar  roots.  Many  of  them  had  been 
colored  red,  brown,  or  yellow,  with  the  juices  of 
roots  and  berries. 

Day  after  day  the  old  woman  sat  on  her  mat 
before  the  fire,  weaving  these  grasses  into  beauti 
ful  baskets.  Some  were  coarse  and  large,  made 
of  reeds  of  one  color.  Others  were  very  fine  and 
had  beautiful  patterns  woven  into  them. 

In  a  large  wigwam  at  one  end  of  the- village,  the 
Indian  men  were  building  a  canoe.  They  made 


Two  Little  Captives 


20Q 


the  framework  of  strong  cedar  boughs,  and  drove 
stakes  into  the  ground  on  each  side  of  the  frame 
to  keep  it  in  shape. 

Near  the  lake  grew  a  large  birch  tree.  Its  bark 
was  smooth  and  white.  The  Indians  cut  the 
bark  around  the  tree  just  below  the  branches,  and 
again  just  above  the  ground.  Then  they  cut  it 


"Day  after  day  the  old  woman  sat  on  her 
mat  .  .  .  weaving  .  .  .  baskets" 

down  the  trunk  from  top  to  bottom,  and  carefully 
stripped  the  bark  from  the  tree. 

"Winter  bark  makes  the  best  canoe,"  they  said. 
"See  how  strong  and  thick  it  is!" 

Then  they  carefully  shaped  the  bark  to  cover 
the  frames,  and  sewed  the  seams  with  the  fibers 
of  the  larch  tree.  It  took  them  many  weeks  to 


210  Pilgrim  Stories 

build  the  canoe.  When  it  was  done  it  would 
carry  eight  or  ten  people. 

Isaac  heard  the  Indians  talking  about  a  long 
journey  they  would  take  in  their  canoes  when 
spring  came.  "In  the  Moon  of  Leaves  the  ice 
will  be  gone  from  the  rivers  and  lakes.  Then  we 
go  to  visit  our  French  brothers  in  Canada," 
they  said. 

"I  know  of  two  people  in  this  camp  who  will 
never  go  to  Canada,"  thought  Isaac. 

At  last  April  came.  The  ice  in  the  rivers  broke 
up  and  slowly  drifted  away.  The  snow  was  gone, 
and  on  the  sunny  hillsides  the  grass  was  quite  green. 
The  birds  came  back  from  the  southland,  and  the 
creatures  that  live  in  the  forest  awoke  from  their 
long  winter  nap. 

Then  one  night,  when  the  Indians  thought  their 
captives  were  asleep,  Isaac  heard  them  planning 
their  journey.  In  a  few  days  they  would  start  to 
Canada  to  sell  the  boys  to  the  French. 

"We  can  find  plenty  cf  food  in  the  forest  now," 
they  said.  "The  ice  is  out  of  the  rivers.  We  will 
take  our  furs  and  the  palefaces  to  the  north." 

All  night  long  Isaac  thought  how  they  might 
escape.  He  knew  the  English  settlements  were 
far  to  the  south.  How  could  he  and  Joseph  reach 
them  with  no  one  to  guide  ?  There  were  no  paths 
through  the  forests. 

He  made  up  his  mind  to  try  it  anyway.     They 


Two  Little  Captives  211 

would  be  guided  by  the  stars  at  night,  and  the  sun 
by  day.  Even  if  they  died  in  the  forest,  it  would 
be  better  than  being  sold  to  the  French. 

The  next  day  the  Indians  went  out  hunting,  and 
while  they  were  gone  Isaac  told  Joseph  what  he 
had  heard.  "I  am  going  to  run  away  to-night," 
he  said.  "When  I  waken  you,  do  not  make  any 
noise.  Just  follow  me." 

When  the  Indians  came  home  they  brought  two 
large  deer.  During  the  day  Isaac  hid  a  large 
piece  of  the  meat  and  some  bread  in  the  bushes 
near  the  spring.  He  and  Joseph  also  filled  their 
pockets  with  parched  corn. 

That  night  Isaac  was  so  excited  that  he  could 
not  sleep.  The  great  camp  fire  burned  lower  and 
lower.  At  last  all  was  quiet  about  the  camp.  He 
wondered  if  all  were  asleep.  He  could  hear  the 
heavy  breathing  of  the  two  men  in  his  wigwam. 

Then  he  shook  Joseph  gently,  but  the  boy  was 
fast  asleep  and  did  not  stir.  He  shook  him  again. 
"What  is  the  matter?"  said  Joseph,  in  a  loud  voice. 

In  a  moment  Isaac's  head  was  upon  his  blanket 
and  he  pretended  to  be  fast  asleep.  He  thought 
every  one  in  the  camp  must  have  heard  Joseph, 
and  expected  they  would  all  come  running  to  the 
wigwam. 

But  the  Indians,  tired  after  their  day's  hunting, 
slept  soundly.  Again  Isaac  shook  Joseph  and 
said,  in  a  whisper  "Keep  quiet!  Come  with  me." 


2/2  Pilgrim  Stories 

The  two  boys  crept  silently  out  of  the  wigwam, 
taking  a  gun  with  them. 

When  they  were  safe  outside,  they  ran  to  the 
spring  to  get  the  meat  and  bread ;  then  they  hur 
ried  away  through  the  forest.  On  they  ran,  over 
logs,  and  through  streams,  keeping  always  to  the 
south. 

When  the  first  dim  light  of  morning  came,  they 
began  to  look  about  for  a  place  to  hide  during  the 
day.  They  dared  not  build  a  fire  to  cook  the 
meat,  so  they  ate  some  of  their  bread  and  parched 
corn.  Then  they  crept  into  a  large  hollow  log  to 
hide  until  dark. 

"They  will  miss  us  in  the  morning,  and  will  soon 
be  on  our  trail,"  said  Joseph.  He  was  quite  right. 

"Hark!"  said  Joseph  a  few  hours  later.  "I 
hear  the  barking  of  dogs!  The  Indians  are 
coming!" 

"Lie  still  and  they  may  not  find  us,"  whispered 
Isaac. 

The  dogs  came  bounding  through  the  forest, 
easily  following  the  scent.  They  were  far  ahead 
of  their  masters.  When  they  came  to  the  hollow 
log  they  barked  joyfully. 

Joseph  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  in  terror, 
but  Isaac  was  more  quick-witted.  He  said  softly, 
"Good  Bose!  Good  dog!  Here  is  some  breakfast 
for  you."  Then  he  threw  the  meat  as  far  as  he 
could; 


Two  Little  Captives  213 

When  the  Indians  came  up,  the  dogs  were  some 
distance  from  the  log,  tearing  the  meat  into  pieces 
and  growling  as  they  ate.  So  the  savages  stopped 
to  rest.  One  of  them  sat  down  on  the  very  log 
where  the  boys  were  hiding.  Joseph's  heart  beat 
bO  hard  he  was  afraid  the  Indians  would  hear  it. 
By  and  by  they  called  their  dogs  and  all  passed 
down  the  hill  out  of  sight. 

All  day  the  boys  lay  still  in  the  log.  When  it 
was  quite  dark,  they  crept  out  and  hurried  on, 
guided  by  the  stars.  In  the  morning  they  found 
another  hiding  place. 

Night  after  night  they  traveled.  Day  after  day 
they  lay  hidden  in  a  cave  or  hollow  tree. 

Now  they  were  so  far  from  the  camp  that  they 
traveled  in  the  daytime,  and  slept  at  night. 

Once,  just  at  nightfall,  the  boys  thought  they 
heard  voices.  They  stood  still  in  alarm  and 
listened.  Then  they  heard  the  barking  of  a  dog. 
They  crept  forward  among  the  bushes  and  listened 
again.  Yes,  they  surely  heard  the  murmur  of 
voices. 

A  few  steps  more,  and  they  saw  the  light  of  a 
camp  fire.  Around  the  fire  sat  a  dozen  Indians, 
smoking  and  cooking  their  supper.  Joseph  and 
Isaac  were  much  frightened  to  find  themselves 
so  near  another  Indian  camp.  They  slipped  away 
quietly,  and  then  ran  with  all  their  might. 

When  they  were  a  safe  distance  from  the  camp, 


214 


Pilgrim  Stories 


they  sat  down  to  rest.     There  was  only  a  little 

bread  left  and  only  a  few  kernels  of  the  parched 

corn.     They  ate  what  they  had  and  went  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  the  boys  were  hungry  and  weary. 


An  Indian  woman  carrying  corn 

"I  hope  we  shall  find  a  settler's  cabin  soon,"  said 
Joseph.     "I  am  almost  tired  out." 

"It  is  now  six  days  since  we  left  the  Indian  camp. 
We  must  be  getting  pretty  near  the  settlements," 
said  Isaac. 


Two  Little  Captives  .   215 

That  morning  they  killed  a  pigeon.  The  smoke 
of  a  camp  fire  can  be  seen  a  long  way.  They  were 
afraid  to  build  a  fire  to  cook  the  pigeon,  so  they 
ate  it  raw. 

The  next  day  they  found  a  turtle.  They  broke 
the  shell  and  ate  the  meat.  They  ate  the  tender 
leaf  buds  on  the  trees  and  bushes,  and  eagerly 
hunted  for  the  roots  that  they  knew  were  good 
for  food. 

Each  day  Joseph  grew  more  weak  and  faint. 
On  the  eighth  morning  he  lay  white  and  still  upon 
the  ground.  Isaac  tried  to  cheer  him,  but  Joseph 
only  moaned  and  turned  away  his  face. 

"Come,  Joseph,  drink  this  water.  Here  are 
some  groundnuts  for  you;  eat  these,"  said  Isaac. 
But  Joseph  did  not  move. 

Poor  Isaac!  What  could  he  do?  They  were 
alone  in  the  great  forest,  he  did  not  know  where. 
They  were  without  food,  and  Joseph  was  too  ill  to 
go  any  farther.  Still  Isaac  did  not  give  up  hope. 

The  brave  boy  lifted  Joseph  to  the  side  of  the 
brook,  and  bathed  his  face  and  hands  in  the  cool 
water.  Then  he  sadly  left  him  alone,  and  with  a 
heavy  heart  walked  away. 

Soon  he  came  upon  a  clearing  in  the  woods. 
Then  a  joyous  sight  met  his  eyes.  A  little  cabin 
stood  not  far  away.  He  quickly  ran  to  it  and 
knocked  at  the  door,  but  no  one  came  to  open  it. 
He  looked  in  at  the  window.  No  one  was  there. 


"They  saw  the  brave  boy  carrying  his  heavy  burden' 


Two  Little  Captives  217 

He  called  loudly  for  help,  but  there  was  no  answer. 

A  well-beaten  path  led  away  from  the  cabin. 
"It  must  lead  to  the  fort,"  thought  he.  "Very 
likely  the  people  are  all  there." 

He  ran  back  to  Joseph,  calling,  "Joseph,  wake 
up!  Help  is  near!"  He  rubbed  Joseph's  hands 
and  held  water  to  his  lips. 

Joseph  opened  his  eyes  and  tried  to  rise.  Isaac 
lifted  him  up  and  led  him  a  few  steps.  Then  he 
took  the  fainting  boy  in  his  arms  and  carried  him. 

Isaac  also  was  weak  from  hunger.  His  bare 
feet  were  sore,  and  his  arms  ached.  Often  he  had 
to  lay  Joseph  upon  the  grass  and  rest.  Then  he 
would  take  him  in  his  arms  again  and  stagger  on. 

Before  night  they  came  to  a  log  fort  on  the 
bank  of  a  river.  The  people  at  the  fort  were  much 
astonished  when  they  saw  the  brave  boy  carrying 
his  heavy  burden.  They  were  still  more  astonished 
when  they  heard  his  strange  story. 

The  settlers  from  all  about  had  come  to  the  fort 
for  safety.  They  tenderly  cared  for  the  boys,  and, 
when  they  were  well  again,  and  the  Indians  had 
been  driven  far  into  the  forest,  these  kind  friends 
took  them  home  to  Haverhill.  There  all  but  the 
anxious  parents  had  believed  the  boys  to  be  dead. 

Within  an  hour  after  they  had  been  stolen, 
Mr.  Bradley  and  a  dozen  other  men,  with  their 
dogs,  had  gone  hurrying  through  the  forest  in 
swift  pursuit. 


2i8  Pilgrim  Stories 

The  dogs  had  led  the  way  without  any  trouble 
until  they  came  to  the  river.  Here  the  Indians 
and  their  captives  had  waded  a  long  way  up  the 
stream,  and  the  dogs  could  not  find  the  scent  again. 
At  last  the  search  was  given  up,  and  the  men  went 
sadly  home. 

Whenever  a  boat  or  a  canoe  came  down  the 
river,  a  spyglass  had  been  turned  upon  it  in  the 
hope  that  the  boys  might  be  returning. 

Every  stranger  who  came  to  the  town  had  been 
eagerly  questioned,  but  none  had  heard  of  them. 
Even  Swift  Arrow,  the  friendly  Indian  who  lived 
in  Haverhill,  could  not  learn  what  had  become  of 
the  little  captives. 

Until  that  glad  April  day  when  a  boat  from  the 
fort  came  down  the  river  bearing  the  rescued 
children,  not  one  word  had  come  to  cheer  the 
anxious  friends. 


THE  CHRISTMAS  CANDLE 

IN  the  little  village  of  Swansea,  lived  a  widow 
with  her  two  children,  Mary  and  Benjamin. 
The  mother  was  a  very  good  woman,  always 
ready  to  nurse  the  sick,  feed  the  hungry,  or  do 
anything  she  could  to  help  those  who  needed  her. 

Indians  lived  in  the  fore'st  about  Swansea,  and 
this  good  woman  was  always  kind  to  them. 
When  they  were  ill  she  went  to  see  them,  and 
made  them  broth,  and  gave  them  medicine.  She 
tried  to  teach  them  about  God. 

Many  of  them  came  to  her  house,  and  she  read 
the  Bible  to  them.  Nearly  all  of  the  Indians  loved 
her  and  would  do  anything  for  her. 

Among  the  Indians  who  came  to  this  house  was 
one  named  Warmsly.  He  was  very  fond  of  cider 
and  would  ask  for  it  at  every  house. 

When  cider  has  stood  for  some  time,  we  say  it 
becomes  "hard."  Hard  cider  is  not  fit  to  drink. 
It  is  only  fit  to  make  vinegar.  Warmsly  liked 
the  hard  cider  best. 

One  day  he  came  to  the  house  and  asked  Mary 
for  hard  cider. 

"I  cannot  give  it  to  you,"  she  said.  "It  makes 
you  drunk." 

Then  Warmsly  grew  angry  and  said,  "You  get 
cider,  quick." 


220  Pilgrim  Stories 

Mary  called  her  mother,  who  said, ' '  No,  Warmsly , 
cider  is  wrong." 

Then  the  Indian  pretended  to  be  sick  and  said 
he  needed  it  for  medicine. 

"No,  you  can  never  get  cider  here,"  said  Mary's 
mother  again. 

Oh,  how  angry  Warmsly  was  then !  His  wicked 
eyes  flashed  as  he  said,  "You  be  sorry!  Me  pay 
you.  Big  fight  soon!.  Indians  kill  all  English. 
Me  pay  you!  Ugh!" 

Sure  enough,  the  "big  fight"  came  sooner  than 
any  one  thought.  The  very  next  Sunday,  as  they 
were  coming  home  from  church,  the  Indians  fell 
upon  the  people,  killing  many  and  burning  their 
homes.  This,  you  remember,  was  the  beginning 
of  King  Philip's  War. 

But  the  Indians  remembered  the  kind  woman 
who  had  been  their  friend.  They  did  not  harm 
her  family  or  her  home. 

But  she  did  not  forget  the  angry  words  of 
Warmsly.  "I  know  quite  well  the  other  Indians 
will  not  harm  us,  but  I  am  afraid  of  Warmsly," 
she  would  say.  For  a  long  time  after  this  she 
would  not  allow  Mary  or  Benjamin  to  go  away 
from  the  house  alone. 

The  summer  passed  and  Warmsly  did  not  come. 
At  last  Philip  was  dead  and  the  dreadful  war  was 
ended.  Autumn  came,  and  with  it,  peace  and 
thanksgiving. 


The  Christmas  Candle  221 

"I  think  Warmsly  must  have  been  killed  in  the 
war,"  said  the  mother,  at  last. 

One  day,  early  in  November,  she  began  to  make 
her  winter's  supply  of  candles.  She  fyung  two 
great  kettles  of  tallow  over  the  fire  to  melt. 

"I  think  we  will  make  a  Christmas  candle  such 
as  we  used  to  have  in  England  when  I  was  a  little 
girl,"  she  told  the  children. 

Mary  clapped  her  hands  in  delight,  for  she  had 
never  had  a  real  Christmas. 

There  were  no  stockings  hung  up  on  Christmas 
eve  in  the  old  Puritan  homes.  No  Christmas  trees 
sparkled  with  lighted  candles  and  bowed  under 
their  load  of  toys  and  pretty  gifts.  There  was  no 
Santa  Claus,  and  no  gay  holiday  for  the  Puritan 
fathers  and  mothers  thought  such  things  were 
foolish  and  wicked. 

"I  think  there  can  be  no  harm  in  a  Christmas 
candle,"  thought  Benjamin's  mother,  as  she  sent 
him  to  find  a  goose  quill. 

When  he  came  back,  she  showed  him  how  to 
put  a  little  powder  into  it.  Very  carefully  the 
quill  of  powder  was  tied  to  a  wick  which  hung  over 
a  small  stick. 

Then  Mary  and  Benjamin  held  the  stick  and  let 
the  wick  down  into  the  melted  tallow.  When 
they  drew  it  up,  it  was  covered  with  the  tallow. 
This  soon  grew  hard,  and  they  dipped  it  again. 
Now  they  could  hardly  see  the  quill  or  the  wick 
u 


222 


Pilgrim  Stories 


because  of  the  thick  white  coat  of  tallow  around 
them.  The  candle  grew  thicker  each  time  it  was 
dipped,  and  at  last  it  was  done. 

"Now  you  must  not  put  it  where  it  is  too  cold 
or  it  will  crack,""  said  their  mother.     So  they  put 


"The  candle  grew  thicker  each  time 
it  was  dipped" 

it  up  on  the  kitchen  shelf  where  they  could  look 
at  it. 

"Oh,  it  is  more  than  a  month  until  Christmas," 
said  the  mother.  "The  candle  will  grow  yellow 
and  ugly  if  you  leave  it  there." 


The  Christmas  Candle  223 

So  it  was  carefully  wrapped  in  paper  and  put 
away  in  a  box;  but  every  few  days  the  children 
would  get  it  out  and  look  at  it.  They  would  gently 
nib  its  smooth  sides  and  wonder  just  where  that 
quill  of  powder  was  hidden. 

Would  Christmas  never  come?  Weeks  before, 
they  had  invited  every  child  in  the  school  to  a 
Christmas  party,  but  since  there  were  only  ten 
pupils,  it  did  not  make  a  very  large  party  after  all. 

Benjamin  hunted  for  the  rosiest  apples  and  the 
sweetest  nuts,  and  put  them  away  for  the  candle 
party.  From  the  beams  above  the  fireplace  hung 
many  ears  of  pop  corn,  dry  and  shining. 

At  last  Christmas  day  came.  But  no  one 
thought  of  staying  home  from  school  or  work 
because  it  was  Christmas.  So  the  children  all 
went  to  school,  and  it  was  well  they  did,  for 
the  day  would  have  seemed  endless  to  them.  The 
party  was  to  be  in  the  evening,  as  of  course 
the  candle  must  not  be  lighted  until  dark. 

But  "dark"  comes  very  early  at  Christmas 
time,  and  as  soon  as  the  little  folks  were  made 
clean  and  ready  after  school,  it  was  time  to  go  to 
the  party. 

In  the  big  kitchen  a  fire  burned  merrily  in  the 
fireplace.  How  the  flames  snapped  and  crackled 
as  they  leaped  up  the  great  chimney! 

Benjamin  passed  the  rosy-cheeked  apples,  and 
the  children  put  them  in  a  row  on  the  hearth  to 


224  Pilgrim  Stories 

roast.  On  the  bricks  near  the  fire  they  placed  a 
pile  of  chestnuts  and  covered  them  with  hot  ashes. 

The  powder  candle  was  lighted  and  placed  upon 
the  table,  and  all  the  other  candles  were  snuffed  out. 

By  and  by  the  chestnuts  on  the  hearth  began 
to  burst  their  shells  and  pop  out.  At  each  loud 
pop  the  children  would  jump  and  look  at  the 
candle. 

"When  that  candle  goes  off,  you  will  not  think 
it  a  chestnut,"  laughed  Benjamin.  "It  will  make 
a  noise  like  a  gun." 

Then  the  story-telling  began.  The  children 
did  not  have  story  books  in  those  days.  All  the 
stories  they  knew  were  those  told  them  by  parents 
and  friends.  These  were  usually  true  stories  of 
the  wild  life  of  those  early  times. 

"What  a  fuss  Tige  is  making!"  said  Mary. 
"What  do  you  suppose  he  is  barking  and  growling 
at?" 

"I  hear  voices  outside,"  answered  her  mother. 
"Very  likely  some  of  the  parents  have  come  for 
their  children.  I  will  go  out  and  quiet  Tige,  and 
tell  them  he  is  tied." 

When  she  stepped  to  the  door  she  could  hear 
voices  near  the  old  cider  press.  Surely  those  tall, 
dark  figures  were  not  those  of  her  neighbors. 
When  her  eyes  had  grown  more  used  to  the 
darkness,  she  could  see  plainly  the  forms  of  three 
Indians,  who  now  came  toward  the  house. 


The  Christmas  Candle  225 

She  hurried  into  the  house  and  locked  the  door. 
She  had  hardly  reached  the  room  where  the  chil 
dren  were  when,  with  a  loud  crash,  the  Indians 
broke  open  the  door  and  came  in.  Great  was  her 
terror  when  she  saw  that  their  leader  was  Warmsly 

"Cider,  now!"  said  Warmsly,  as  he  sat  down 
near  the  table. 

What  could  the  woman  do  ?  She  mast  not  give 
him  the  cider.  There  is  nothing  more  terrible 
than  a  drunken  Indian.  "It  must  be  getting 
late,"  she  thought,  "and  the  men  will  soon  come 
for  their  children.  If  I  can  only  get  Warmsly 's 
mind  off  the  cider  until  then!" 

She  passed  the  Indians  apples,  and  nuts,  cold 
meat,  and  bread,  and  they  ate  greedily.  But 
they  did  not  forget  the  cider.  "White  squaw  get 
cider,  quick,"  said  Warmsly,  shaking  his  big 
tomahawk  with  an  ugly  look. 

"Oh,  if  the  neighbors  would  only  come  now!" 
thought  the  mother,  as  she  went  slowly  to  the  cup 
board.  She  took  down  a  large  brown  pitcher  and 
set  it  on  the  table.  Then  she  slowly  walked  back 
to  the  cupboard  and  took  down  her  pewter  mugs, 
one  at  a  time. 

The  Indians  watched  her  with  eager  eyes. 
"White  squaw  get  cider,  quick,"  repeated 
Warmsly,  looking  uglier  than  ever. 

But  the  words  were  hardly  out  of  his  mouth 
when  there  was  a  great  flash  of  light.  Puff! 


"She  passed  the  Indians  apples" 


The  Christmas  Candle  227 

bang!  went  the  candle  with  a  noise  like  the  firing 
of  a  cannon.  Benjamin  had  put  too  much  powder 
in  the  quill.  There  was  a  loud  rattling  of  dishes 
and  windows.  The  children  screamed  in  terror. 
Even  the  fire  was  much  scattered  and  dimmed 
with  a  shower  of  ashes.  Then  all  was  strangely 
still.  The  rank  powder  smoke  filled  the  room  and 
everything  was  hidden  in  thick  darkness. 

When  the  smoke  cleared  away,  the  reviving 
light  of  the  fire  showed  the  hatchets  of  the  Indians 
on  the  floor,  and  the  kitchen  door  wide  open.  Not 
a  savage  was  to  be  seen.  No  doubt  they  thought 
the  white  men  were  upon  them,  so  they  made 
their  way  back  to  the  forest  as  fast  as  possible 

That  was  the  last  the  colonists  ever  saw  of 
Warmsly. 

The  neighbors  had  heard  the  noise  of  the  candle, 
and  now  came  to  take  their  children  home  from 
the  party.  How  astonished  they  were  to  hear 
the  story  of  the  Indians!  "God  has  been  very 
good  to  us  in  saving  thee  and  our  children  from 
the  savages,"  they  said. 

Each  year  after  that  a  Christmas  candle  was 
burned  in  many  homes,  and  the  story  of  how  one 
saved  the  children  of  Swansea  never  grew  old. 
When  the  children  who  were  at  that  party  grew 
to  be  men  and  women,  they  told  it  to  their  children 
and  grandchildren.  And  the  grandchildren  have 
passed  the  story  down  to  us. 


TWO  BRASS  KETTLES 

IN  a  little  town  not  far  from  Boston  stood  an 
old  brick  house.  It  did  not  look  like  a  brick 
house,  for  it  had  been  covered  on  the  outside 
with  boards. 

It  was  the  safest  house  in  the  village,  and  during 
King  Philip's  War  the  neighbors  often  used  to 
come  to  this  "fort-house,"  as  it  was  called,  for 
safety.  When  its  great  oak  doors  were  bolted 
and  its  strong  shutters  fastened,  there  was  little 
danger  from  Indians.  They  could  not  burn  its 
brick  walls  as  they  did  so  many  log  cabins. 

But  no  Indians  had  been  seen  for  a  long  time, 
and  the  people  began  to  think  that  danger  from 
them  was  past. 

One  Sunday  morning,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Minot,  who 
lived  in  the  old  house,  went  to  meeting,  leaving 
their  two  little  ones  with  Experience,  the  maid. 

It  was  a  very  hot  summer  day  and  the  windows 
in  the  big  kitchen  were  wide  open.  The  butter 
flies  flitted  to  and  fro  in  the  bright  sunshine,  and 
the  bees  hummed  drowsily  in  the  vines  twining 
about  the  window. 

The  two  little  children  sat  upon  the  floor  while 
Experience  built  a  fire  in  the  brick  oven  and  began 
to  prepare  dinner. 

When  this  was  finished,  she  drew  her  chair  up 
228 


Two  Brass  Kettles 


229 


beside  the  open  window.  "Now,  little  one,"  she 
said  to  the  baby,  as  she  picked  her  up,  "let  us  sit 
here  in  the  breeze  and  watch  for  mother  to  come." 
Experience  sang  softly  and  rocked  to  and  fro, 
hoping  the  baby  would  go  to  sleep.  But  Baby 


"Let  us  sit  here  .  .  .  and  watch  for  mother" 

had  no  thought  of  going  to  sleep.  She  laughed 
and  crowed  and  tried  to  catch  the  pretty  shadows 
as  they  danced  over  the  window  sill. 

Suddenly  Experience  saw  a  sight  which  made 


Pilgrim  Stories 

her  heart  stand  still.  Behind  a  row  of  currant 
bushes  was  an  Indian,  creeping  on  his  hands  and 
knees  toward  the  house. 

Only  a  moment  Experience  sat  still  and  stared 
at  the  savage,  then  she  quickly  bolted  the  door 
and  closed  the  windows.  There  was  no  time  to 
close  the  heavy  shutters. 

What  should  she  do  with  the  children?  She 
looked  about  for  a  safe  hiding  place.  On  the 
floor,  bottom  upward,  stood  the  two  great  brass 
kettles  which  Experience  had  scoured  the  day 
before.  She  quickly  raised  one  of  the  kettles  and 
pushed  the  baby  under  it,  then,  before  Baby's 
little  brother  could  think  what  had  happened, 
down  came  the  other  kettle  over  him. 

Then  Experience  rushed  to  the  oven  for  a 
shovel  of  hot  coals.  "If  that  Indian  comes  in 
here  I'll  give  him  a  taste  of  these  hot  coals,"  said 
she.  But  suddenly  she  noticed  that  the  Indian 
carried  a  gun. 

"Oh!"  she  thought,  "he  can  shoot  much  farther 
than  I  can  possibly  throw  these  coals."  So  she 
dropped  the  shovel  upon  the  hearth  and  fled  up 
stairs  for  the  gun.  "Keep  still,  children,"  she 
whispered,  as  she  ran  past  them. 

But  the  children  did  not  keep  still.  They  did 
not  at  all  like  being  crowded  under  the  kettles. 
They  tried  to  push  them  over,  but  the  kettles 
were  too  heavy.  Then  they  began  to  yell,  partly 


Two  Brass  Kettles  231 

in  terror,  and  partly  in  anger.  The  sound  made 
the  kettles  ring  with  a  strange,  wild  noise. 

When  the  Indian  appeared  at  the  window,  he 
looked  about  the  room  and  could  see  no  one,  yet 
where  could  that  dreadful  noise  come  from?  He 
stared  at  the  kettles,  wondering  what  creatures 
those  could  be  that  howled  and  rumbled  so 
frightfully. 

Just  then  the  children  began  to  creep  toward 
the  light,  moving  the  kettles,  which  looked  like 
two  great  turtles. 

"Ugh!  Ugh!  Me  shoot!"  grunted  the  mystified 
Indian.  Boom-oom-oom-m !  went  the  bullet, 
glancing  from  kettle  to  kettle. 

The  babies  were  frightened,  but  not  at  all  hurt, 
so  they  howled  all  the  louder  and  crept  faster  than 
ever  toward  the  window. 

Now  it  was  the  Indian's  turn  to  be  frightened. 
"Ugh!  Gun  no  hurt  him !  Him  come!"  Then  he 
dropped  his  gun  and  fled.  He  had  no  wish  to 
fight  with  two  great  monsters  that  could  not  be 
hurt  with  a  gun. 

Experience  saw  him  as  he  ran  away  through 
the  garden,  and  fired  at  him,  but  he  was  soon  out 
of  sight.  She  could  still  hear  the  children  cry 
ing  under  the  brass  kettles,  so  she  knew  they  were 
not  hurt.  Before  she  could  get  down  stairs, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Minot  came  home  from  meeting. 
There  lay  the  gun  before  the  window,  and  the 


232  Pilgrim  Stories 

children  were  still  under  the  kettles,  howling 
madly  and  struggling  to  be  free. 

"What  is  the  matter?  What  has  happened?" 
the  parents  cried,  and  Experience  told  the  story 
of  the  Indian. 

"Perhaps  he  is  still  hiding  somewhere  on  the 
farm,"  said  Mr.  Minot,  seizing  his  gun. 

He  hurried  across  the  garden,  looking  behind 
trees  and  bushes  for  the  Indian.  At  last  he  found 
him,  but  the  Indian  could  do  no  harm  then.  His 
body  lay  beside  the  brook,  for  the  maid's  aim  had 
been  more  true  than  she  thought. 


COLONIAL   SCHOOLS 

IN  a  very  few  years  after  the  Pilgrims  settled 
at  Plymouth,  there  were  many  children  in 
the  colonies. 

Of  course  these  children  went  to  school,  but 
their  school  was  not  at  all  like  ours.  For  the  first 
few  years  there  was  not  a  schoolhouse  in  New 
England. 

The  children  went  to  the  home  of  one  of  the 
neighbors,  who  was  teacher  and  housekeeper  too. 
They  sat  on  a  long  seat  by  the  fireplace  and 
studied.  When  their  lessons  were  learned,  they 
stood  in  a  row,  with  their  toes  on  a  crack  in  the 
floor,  and  recited. 

The  good  woman  went  on  with  her  spinning  or 
weaving  while  they  read  aloud.  The  girls  were 
taught  to  spin  and  sew,  as  well  as  to  read  and 
write.  Each  little  girl  took  her  box  of  sewing  to 
school. 

In  those  days  nearly  every  little  girl  made  a 
sampler  of  linen.  On  this  sampler  she  worked 
in  colored  silks,  all  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  and 
the  numbers  to  ten.  She  worked  her  name,  and 
age,  and  the  date  on  it,  too.  Have  you  ever 
seen  any  of  these  quaint  old  samplers?  It  took 
a  child  a  long,  long  time  to  work  all  the  pretty 
stitches  on  one. 


234 


Pilgrim  Stories 


After  a  few  years  log  schoolhouses  were  built, 
each  having  at  one  end  a  log  chimney  with  a  wide 
fireplace  and  oiled  paper  in  the  windows  instead 
of  glass.  There  were  long  benches  made  of  logs 
split  in  two  running  quite  across  the  room. 


"They  stood  in  a  row,  with  their  toes  on  a  crack" 

The  largest  boys  and  girls  sat  on  the  higher 
back  seats,  and  the  little  ones  sat  in  front  near  the 
teacher.  All  studied  their  lessons  aloud,  that  the 
teacher  might  know  they  were  doing  it  well. 

The  hum  of  their  voices  might  be  heard  as  far 


Colonial  Schools  235 

as  the  road.  If  you  had  been  passing  a  school  in 
those  days,  you  would  have  thought  there  must 
be  a  very  large  hive  of  bees  near  by. 

The  little  ones  learned  their  lessons  from  a  queer 
little  book  called  "The  New  England  Primer."  It 
did  not  have  pretty  pictures  and  interesting 
stories  in  it,  as  our  primers  have.  There  was  an 
odd  little  picture  for  each  letter  of  the  alphabet, 
and  beside  it,  a  rhyme.  The  children  also  learned 
many  verses  from  the  Bible. 

When  a  boy  did  not  learn  his  lessons,  he  had  to 
wear  a  tall  paper  cap  called  a  "dunce  cap,"  and 
stand  on  a  stool  in  the  corner. 

There  were  wide  cracks  between  the  logs  of  the 
schoolhouse,  and  in  the  winter  the  room,  except 
near  the  fire,  was  very  cold. 

The  parents  of  each  child  had  to  send  a  load  of 
wood  to  heat  the  schoolhouse.  If  they  did  not 
do  this,  their  child  had  to  sit  shivering  in  the 
coldest  part  of  the  room.  His  little  hands  would 
be  blue  and  numb  with  the  cold,  and  his  stiff 
little  feet  would  ache. 

This  seems  pretty  hard,  and  I  am  sure  the 
teacher  must  sometimes  have  brought  the  poor 
little  fellow  to  a  seat  near  the  warm  blaze.  But 
they  must  have  wood  for  the  schoolhouse,  and  there 
was  plenty  of  it  in  the  forest  near  by ;  all  the  people 
had  to  do  was  to  get  it. 

If  a  man  would  not  take  the  trouble  to  cut  the 


2 36  Pilgrim  Stories 

wood  and  bring  it  to  the  schoolhouse,  his  little  ones 
must  go  cold.  No  father  could  stand  that,  so  the 
wood  was  usually  brought  within  a  few  days. 

The  parents  of  the  children  paid  the  teacher 
in  corn,  barley,  and  other  things  which  they 
raised  on  their  farms.  Or,  if  the  teacher  were  a 
man,  the  mothers  sometimes  wove  cloth  for  his 
coat,  or  knitted  stockings  and  mittens  for  him. 


HOLIDAYS  AND  HOLY  DAYS 

IT   was    Saturday   morning.     Little    Elizabeth 
Brown  sat  by  a  window  in  the  big  kitchen, 
hemming  a  tiny  pink  dress  for  a  doll  she  was 
making  for  her  little  sister  Hope. 

On  the  chair  beside  her  lay  the  doll,  though  you 
might  not  have  thought  of  calling  it  a  doll.  It 
did  not  have  curly  hair  and  eyes  that  open  and 
shut,  or  even  a  jointed  body,  and  no  amount  of 
pinching  or  squeezing  could  make  it  cry.  In 
those  days  no  'child  had  dolls  like  ours.  Hope's 
doll  was  made  of  a  corncob,  and  the  face  was 
painted  on  a  piece  of  white  linen  stretched  over  a 
little  ball  of  wool  on  the  end  of  the  cob. 
'  When  the  last  neat  little  stitches  were  taken, 
Elizabeth  dressed  the  doll  in  the  pink  gown  and 
the  tiny  blue  sunbonnet  which  Aunt  Faith  had 
made  for  it.  Then  she  folded  a  small  white 
kerchief  about  its  neck,  and  when  Hope  awoke 
all  rosy  and  smiling  from  her  nap,  there  lay  the 
little  lady  on  the  bed  beside  her. 

Could  any  child  have  been  happier  than  was 
Hope  with  her  first  doll!  What  did  it  matter 
that  its  body  was  a  corncob  and  its  face  a  bit  of 
white  cloth?  It  was  a  perfectly  beautiful  doll 
to  Hope.  She  called  it  Mary  Ellen  and  carried  it 
about  with  her  wherever  she  went. 

»37 


238 


Pilgrim  Stories 


In  another  room  their  mother  was  looking  ovei 
the  clothes  to  be  worn  to  meeting  the  next  day. 


was  a  perfectly  beautiful  doll  to  Hope" 

When  the  last  button  was  sewed  on  and  the 
clothes  were  well  brushed,  she  laid  them  out  on 
chairs,  ready  to  be  put  on  on  Sunday  morning. 

Nothing  that  could  be  done  on  Saturday  was 
ever  left  over  until  Sunday.     Even  the  potatoes 
were  peeled,  and  the  meat  for  Sunday's  dinner 
was  cooked  on  Saturday. 

About  noon  shouts  were  heard  outside,  and 
down  the  hill  came  a  merry  group  of  boys  with 
axes  over  their  shoulders.  They  had  been  cutting 
wood  in  the  forest  all  the  morning. 


Holidays  and  Holy  Days 


239 


As  they  passed  the  window  where  Elizabeth 
sat  darning  stockings,  they  called  to  her,  "Come 
to  the  hill  this  afternoon.  The  ice  is  frozen  on  the 
pond,  and  we  can  coast  down  the  long  hill  and 
away  across  the  ice." 

It  took  Hope  some  time  to  decide  whether  she 
would  rather  go  coasting  or  stay  at  home  and  play 
with  Mary  Ellen.  But  Aunt  Faith  thought  even 
doll  babies  ought  to  have  naps  sometimes,  so  Mary 
Ellen  was  rocked  to  sleep  and  warmly  covered  in 
Hope's  little  bed. 


"Elizabeth  and  Hope  took  their 


sled  and  went  to  the  hill" 


Then  Elizabeth  and  Hope  took  their  clumsy 
wooden  sled  and  went  to  the  hill.  Many  boys 
and  girls  of  the  village  were  already  flying  down 


240  Pilgrim  Stories 

the  long,  smooth  track.  The  air  rang  with  their 
merry  voices. 

All  too  soon  they  heard  the  boom!  boom!  of  the 
sunset  gun.  The  happy  holiday  was  at  an  end. 

"What  a  pity  it  gets  dark  so  early  in  the  winter, 
when  we  want  to  coast,"  they  sighed,  as  they 
started  toward  home. 

For  the  Puritans  the  Sabbath  began  at  sunset  on 
Saturday,  and  no  child  might  play  after  the  sunset 
gun  was  heard.  The  evening  was  spent  in  reading 
the  Bible  and  learning  verses  from  it. 

When  the  children  reached  home,  Hope  ran  to 
her  bed  to  get  Mary  Ellen.  Presently  her  mother 
came  in  and  said,  "This  is  the  Sabbath  now,  Hope. 
You  must  not  play  with  your  doll  on  the  Sabbath." 

So  Hope  kissed  her  baby  and  carried  it  into  the 
bedroom  to  find  a  safe  warm  place  for  it  to  stay 
until  the  next  evening.  There  lay  her  father's 
Sunday  coat;  what  cozier  nest  could  she  find  for 
Mary  Ellen  than  its  big  pocket  ? 

Early  Sunday  morning,  Mistress  Brown  came 
to  the  children's  bed  and  awakened  them.  "Get 
up,  little  girls,"  she  said.  "This  is  the  Lord's 
Day  and  we  must  not  waste  it  in  bed." 

After  breakfast  the  family  had  prayers,  after 
which  they  did  such  work  as  must  be  done,  and 
then  dressed  for  meeting. 

Master  Brown  filled  the  little  tin  foot  stove  wich 
hot  coals  from  the  hearth.  Then  he  took  down 


Holidays  and  Holy  Days  241 

his  gun  from  its  hook  and  looked  to  see  that  it  was 
ready  for  use.  In  those  days  no  man  went  any 
where  without  his  gun, — not  even  to  church,  for 
the  Indians  were  likely  to  come  at  any  time. 

Rub-a-dub-dub !     Rub-a-dub-dub ! 

Is  that  a  call  to  arms?  Are  the  Indians  about? 
Oh,  no,  that  is  only  the  drummer  calling  the  people 
to  church. 

There  were  no  bells  on  the  first  meetinghouses 
in  New  England.  Sometimes  the  firing  of  a  gun 
was  the  call  to  worship.  More  often  a  big  drum, 
beaten  on  the  steps  of  the  meetinghouse,  told  the 
people  it  was  time  to  come  together. 

At  the  sound  of  the  drum  Master  Brown  and  his 
wife,  with  Elizabeth,  Hope,  and  Aunt  Faith,  started 
to  church.  From  every  house  in  the  village  came 
men,  women,  and  children.  They  were  always 
ready  when  the  drum  began  to  beat.  It  was  not 
the  custom  to  be  late  to  meeting  and  as  for  staying 
away  one  had  to  be  very  ill  indeed  to  do  that. 

Elizabeth  saw  her  dear  friend,  Mary,  just  ahead 
of  her.  Do  you  suppose  she  skipped  along  to 
speak  to  her,  or  walked  to  meeting  by  her  side? 
No,  indeed.  "The  Sabbath  day  is  not  the  time 
for  light  talk,"  her  mother  told  her. 

When  the  meetinghouse  was  reached,  Master 
Brown  led  his  family  to  their  pew.  He  opened  a 
little  door  to  let  them  in.  The  pew  was  much  like 
a  large  box  with  seats  around  the  sides. 


2^2  Pilgrim  Stories 

The  church  was  very  cold,  for  there  was  no 
fire ;  but  the  children  warmed  their  toes  and  fingers 
by  the  queer  little  foot  stove  their  father  had 
brought  from  home. 

The  boys  were  not  allowed  to  sit  with  their 


"From  every  house  in  the  village  came  men, 
women,  and  children" 

parents.  They  all  sat  together  at  one  side  of  the 
church  or  on  the  pulpit  stairs.  When  all  the 
people  were  in  their  seats,  the  minister  climbed 
the  steps  to  his  high  pulpit.  -  • 


Holidays  and  Holy  Days 


243 


Only  a  very  few  people  had  hymn  books.  The 
minister  read  two  lines  of  the  hymn  and  they  all 
sang  them  to  some  well-known  tune.  Then  he 
read  two  more  lines,  and  all  sang  them,  and  so  on 
until  they  had  sung  all  the  verses. 

The  sermon  was  always  very  long,  three  hours 
at  the  least.  The  children  could  not  understand 
what  it  was  all  about,  and  it  was  very  hard  for 
them  to  sit  up  and  listen  quietly. 

Elizabeth  was  four  years  older  than  Hope,  so 
she  felt  quite  like  a  little  woman.  She  sat  up 


A  colonial  foot  stove 

beside  her  mother  and  looked  at  the  minister 
almost  all  the  time.  But  sometimes  she  had  to 
wink  hard  to  keep  awake. 

When  she  thought  she  could  not  hang  her  feet 
down  another  minute  she  would  slip  on  to  the  foot 
stool  to  rest. 

But  she  was  often  much  ashamed  of  Hope. 
Poor  little  Hope  could  not  sit  still  ten  minutes. 

Hope  enjoyed  singing  the  hymns.  She  stood 
up  on  the  footstool  at  her  father's  side  and  sang 
with  all  her  might.  Then  she  sat  down  and  tried 


244  Pilgrim  Stories 

to  listen  to  the  sermon.  When  she  began  to  stir 
about  a  little,  her  mother  shook  her  head  at  her. 
She  tried  to  sit  still,  but  was  soon  restless  again. 

Then  Aunt  Faith  gave  her  a  sprig  of  some 
sweet,  spicy  plant.  This  kept  her  quiet  for  a  while, 
but  at  last  leaves,  stems,  and  all  were  eaten.  Hope 
folded  her  hands  and  for  a  few  minutes  looked 
straight  at  the  minister.  She  was  trying  hard  to 
be  good. 

Presently  she  began  to  be  sleepy  and  nestled 
her  head  upon  her  father's  arm,  for  a  nap.  But 
now  she  felt  something  in  his  pocket  she  was  sure 
she  knew.  A  happy  smile  came  over  Hope's  face. 
She  was  wide  awake  now. 

Slipping  her  hand  into  the  wide  pocket,  she 
drew  out  Mary  Ellen,  and  smoothed  her  wrinkled 
gown. 

Master  Brown's  thoughts  were  all  on  the 
sermon,  and  even  Mistress  Brown  did  not  notice 
her  for  a  little  time.  When  she  did,  what  do 
you  suppose  she  saw?  Hope  standing  up  on  the 
seat,  showing  her  doll  to  the  little  girl  in  the  pew 
behind  her! 

Oh,  oh,  how  ashamed  her  mother  was!  She 
pulled  her  little  daughter  down  quickly  and 
whispered,  "Do  you  want  the  tithingman  to  come 
with  his  rod?  Well,  then,  sit  down  and  listen." 
Then  taking  Mary  Ellen,  she  slipped  her  into  her 
big  muff. 


Holidays  and  Holy  Days  245 

Little  Hope  did  sit  down  and  listen.  She  did 
not  even  turn  around  when  the  kind  lady  behind 
them  dropped  a  peppermint -over  the  high-backed 
pew  for  her. 

Hope  was  very  much  afraid  of  the  tithingman, 
who  sat  on  a  high  seat  behind  the  people.  He 
had  a  long  rod  with  a  hard  knob  on  one  end  and  a 
squirrel's  tail  on  the  other. 

When  he  saw  a  lady  nodding  during  the  sermon, 
he  stepped  around  to  her  pew  and  tickled  her  face 
with  the  fur  end  of  the  rod.  She  would  waken 
with  a  start  and  be,  oh,  so  ashamed.  She  would 
be  very  glad  the  pew  had  such  high  sides  to  hide 
her  blushing  face.  • 

Perhaps  you  think  the  boys  on  the  other  side  of 
the  church  had  a  good  time  with  no  parents  near 
to  keep  them  quiet.  But  there  was  the  tithing 
man  again.  When  he  saw  a  boy  whispering  or 
playing,  as  children  sometimes  do  when  so  many 
are  together,  he  rapped  him  on  the  head  with  the 
knob  end  of  the  rod. 

The  whispering  would  stop  at  once,  for  the  rod 
often  brought  tears  and  left  a  headache.  But  the 
tithingman  and  his  rod  could  not  always  keep  the 
boys  in  order.  We  read  that  in  one  church  the 
boys  were  fined  for  cutting  the  seats  with  their 
knives.  In  another,  whips  were  placed  here  and 
there,  and  certain  persons  chosen  to  use  them  when 
they  thought  the  boys  needed  to  be  punished. 


Pilgrim  Stories 

'.'What  shall  we  do  with  our  boys?"  the  fathers 
often  asked  each  other.  At  last  some  one  thought 
of  a  plan  which  worked  very  well.  What  do  you 
suppose  it  was?  Simply  this:  to  let  each  little 
boy  sit  with  his  own  father  and  mother. 


"They  had  quite  forgotten  the  tithingman" 

Besides  keeping  the  boys  from  playing  and  the 
grown  people  from  going  to  sleep,  the  tithingman 
must  turn  the  hourglass.  In  those  dayS  very  few 
people  could  afford  clocks,  but  every  one  could 
have  an  hourglass.  It  took  the  fine  sand  just  one 


Holidays  and  Holy  Days 


hour  to  pour  from  the  upper  part  of  the  glass 
through  the  tiny  hole  into  the  lower  part. 

When  the  sand  had  all  run  through,  the  tithing- 
man  turned  the  glass  over  and  the  sand  began  to 
tell  another  hour.  When  the  glass  had  been 
turned  three  times,  the  minister  closed 
the  service.  Then  the  men  picked  up 
their  muskets  and  foot  stoves,  the 
women  wrapped  their  long  capes  more 
closely  about  them,  and  all  went  home. 

Often  there  was  another  service  in 
the  afternoon.  At  sunset  the  Puritan 
Sabbath  ended.  Then  the 


An 
hourglass 


women 

brought  out  their  knitting  or  spinning,  or  pre 
pared  for  Monday's  washing  and  the  children 
were  free  to  play  until  bedtime. 


SUGGESTIONS  TO  TEACHERS 

THE  sustained  interest  of  the  continuous  story 
has  various  advantages  over  the  short  story  in 
the  education  of  children.  If  a  story  is  worth 
reading  it  should  be  worth  remembering,  and  in 
order  that  a  story  be  remembered  it  must  make  a 
deep  impression.  A  story  with  a  connected  thread 
of  interest  extending  over  several  weeks  is  likely  to 
make  a  deeper  impression  than  any  one  of  a  score 
or  more  of  short  disconnected  stories  which  might 
have  been  read  in  the  same  time. 

In  the  long  story  the  children  have  an  opportunity 
to  become  acquainted  with  the  characters,  and,  in 
imagination,  to  go  with  them  through  their  various 
experiences.  The  children's  delight  in  such  stories 
as  Robin  Hood  and  Knights  of  the  Round  Table  is 
largely  attributable  to  the  fact  that  they  have  time 
to  think  about  them,  each  day's  chapter  adding  to 
the  background  for  that  which  follows. 

The  children  like  to  live  in  a  story  they  are  reading 
or  hearing,  told.  They  want  to  dramatize  it,  and 

248 


Suggestions  to  Teachers 

they  are  interested  in  making  things  that  are  neces 
sary  to  carry  out  the  play.  The  incentive  to 
constructive  motor  activity  is  one  of  the  valuable 
results  of  the  "Pilgrim  Stories." 

The  Sand  Table.  In  a  room  where  the  children 
were  reading  the  "Pilgrim  Stories"  were  placed  a 
sand  table  and  a  box  of  blocks  of  different  geometric 
forms, —  cubes,  prisms,  and  pyramids. 

For  the  first  few  days  the  children  worked  there 
separately,  each  child  making  a  house  or  a  church, 
or  something  else  suggested  by  the  story,  and  then 
destroying  the  results. 

Then  the  teacher  noticed  a  group  of  children  work 
ing  together  at  the  sand  table  and  that  they  had 
made  Scrooby  Inn  and  surrounded  the  house  and 
garden  with  a  wall  and  a  moat.  This  remained  a 
more  or  less  permanent  feature  of  the  scene  for 
a  time.  The  church  and  other  cottages  were  added ) 
and  various  little  changes  made  from  day  to  day. 

Some  of  the  children  brought  things  from  home 
to  make  the  scene  more  realistic.  A  row  of  lead 
soldiers  patrolled  the  street  in  front  of  Elder  Brewster's 
house,  while  a  man  on  horseback  and  a  number  of 
other  persons  seemed  to  be  cautiously  approaching 
an  unguarded  house  at  the  other  end  of  the  village. 

In  a  few  days  the  scene  changed.  A  long,  crooked 
dike  was  built  diagonally  across  one  corner  of  the 
sand  table.  Canals  were  laid  out  and  spanned  by 
tiny  bridges  and  a  few  houses  were  erected. 

Here  a  new  difficulty  arose.  The  supply  of  blocks 
was  quite  inadequate  to  the  demand,  so  the  children 


Suggestions  to  Teachers 


asked  for  stiff  paper  from  which  to  construct  houses. 
That  they  could  not  build  very  satisfactory  wind 
mills  of  the  blocks  at  hand  was  soon  seen  so  they 
were  given  a  lesson  in  constructing  them  out  of  a 
heavy  paper  called  book  board.  These  served  the 
purpose  very  well  for  a  time  but  were  easily  upset, 
and  the  children  suggested  that  if  they  had  some 
clay  they  could  build  still  better  windmills.  So 
clay  windmills  were  made  and  paper  sails  attached 
with  glass-headed  pins.  Later  boats,  dog-carts,  and 
people  appeared  in  the  town.  The  figures  were  tiny 
dolls  in  characteristic  dress. 

This  work  at  the  sand  table  was  carried  on  through 
out  the  story,  the  children  daily  making  discoveries 


in  the  possibilities  of  paper,  clay,  and  wood.  In 
each  case  the  construction  lesson  was  the  result  of 
an  expressed  need  which  the  children  had  not  been 
able  to  supply  to  their  satisfaction. 


Suggestions  to  Teachers 


251 


A   Log  Cabin.     If  possible,   when  reading  about 
the  founding  of  Plymouth,  have  a  small  log  cabin 


built  by  boys  in  an  upper  grade.  One  side  of  the 
house  should  be  left  open  in  the  manner  of  a  doll's 
house.  The  children  may  build  a  fireplace  and 
chimney  of  small  bricks  made  of  clay.  There  should 
be  a  shelf  above  the  fireplace  where  the  children  can 
arrange  a  row  of  little  pewter  plates  and  pitchers, 
and  perhaps  a  tiny  candlestick. 

Some  boy  will  be  glad  to  whittle  out  a  small  gun, 
stain  it  with  ink,  and  hang  it  above  the  shelf.  A 
table,  settle,  cupboards,  chairs,  and  other  furniture 
may  be  made  of  book  board  or  any  stiff  construction 
paper.  Rugs  should  be  woven  of  rags  or  cotton 
roving.  The  latter  material  comes  in  many  soft  colors 
and  makes  beautiful  rugs. 

At  this  time  the  children  may  dip  candles  as 
described  in  the  story  of  "The  Christmas  Candle." 
Have  the  children  model  candlesticks  of  clay,  rubbing 
them  smooth  with  fine  sandpaper  when  dry.  These 
may  be  baked  in  a  hot  oven  to  make  them  more 
durable.  If  convenient  to  a  pottery,  these  little 
candlesticks  may  be  glazed  and  fired,  making  them 
lasting  treasures  to  the  children  and  parents. 


Suggestions  to  Teachers 


The  Indian  Village.  Through  their  acquaintance 
with  Squanto,  Massasoit,  and  other  Indians  men 
tioned  in  the  book,  the  children  see  many  different 
phases  of  Indian  life  and  customs.  The  story  of 
the  "Two  Little  Captives"  is  especially  profuse  in 
suggestions  for  dramatization  and  handwork. 

A  very  effective  wigwam  may  be  made  by  sewing 
together  with  ball  stitch  pieces  of  old  kid  gloves. 
The  inside  of  the  gloves  should  be  used  for  the  outside 
of  the  wigwam.  With  paint  or  colored  crayons  make 
crude  pictures  of  the  sun  and  moon  on  the  wigwam. 

Little  mats  woven  of  raffia  and  rugs  or  blankets 
woven  of  bright  wool  complete  the  furniture  of  the 
Indian  home. 


The  children  will  delight  in  learning  to  weave 
baskets  of  raffia  or  reeds.  They  may  imitate  the 
designs  of  Indian  baskets  though  they  cannot  imitate 
the  texture. 

The  children  may  model  clay  bowls  and  jars  in 
imitation  of  those  made  by  Indians.  These  may  be 
decorated  with  simple  borders  in  India  ink  or  paint. 

Canoes  may  easily  be  made  of  birch  bark  or  stiff 
construction  paper  and  decorated  with  colored 
crayons. 


Suggestions  to  Teachers  253 

Drawing  The  children  may  illustrate  the  different 
incidents  in  the  story  with  charcoal,  colored  crayons, 
water  colors,  or  scissors,  working,  sometimes  from 


a  pose,  sometimes  from  imagination.  These  illustra 
tions  will  be  more  valuable  if  mounted  in  a  booklet 
in  such  order  as  to  represent  a  continuous  story. 

Children  are  always  interested  in  making  designs, 
and  are  often  surprisingly  successful.  They  will 
enjoy  making  designs  for  blankets,  bead  work,  and 
decorations  for  bowls  and  baskets. 

After  studying  examples  of  Indian  picture  writing 
the  children  may  try  to  record  some  simple  incident 
in  that  way. 

Loan  Collections.  If  possible  make  a  collection 
of  pewter  dishes,  brass  candlesticks,  and  snuffers, 
hourglass,  foot  stove,  spinning  wheel,  and  other 
articles  used  in  old  English,  Dutch,  or  Colonial  homes. 

At  another  time  make  a  collection  of  Indian 
baskets,  blankets,  ornaments,  clothing,  tools,  and 
weapons. 

Pictures.  Collections  of  pictures  should  be  made 
to  further  illustrate  the  text.  These  might  be  roughly 
divided  into  four  groups: — 


254  Suggestions  to  Teachers 

(a)  Pictures  of  English  rural  scenes  and  home  life. 

(b)  Pictures  of  Dutch  life. 

(c)  Pictures  illustrating  the  life  of  the  Pilgrims 

in   Plymouth,   and   other   Colonial   scenes. 

(d)  Pictures    of   Indian   life. 

These  pictures  should  be  neatly  mounted  and 
displayed,  one  group  at  a  time,  where  the  children 
can  easily  see  them.  If  a  burlap-covered  screen  is 
not  available  the  following  arrangements  will  be 
found  very  satisfactory. 


'  How  to  Display  Mounted  Pictures.  A  section  of 
wall  or  blackboard  may  be  covered  with  plain  black 
mosquito  netting  secured  to  the  woodwork  by  thumb 
tacks.  At  a  distance  of  a  few  feet  this  is  practically 
invisible,  only  giving  the  wall  a  slightly  darker  shade. 
Upon  this  background  the  pictures  may  be  hung  by 
means  of  the  tiny  hooks  made  for  that  purpose. 

Dramatization.  The  stories  in  this  book  offer 
abundant  opportunity  for  dramatization.  In  imagi 
nation  the  children  are  living  with  these  characters 
from  day  to  day,  and  this  makes  it  easy  for  them  to 
assume  the  part  assigned.  In  dramatizing  stories 
in  primary  grades  no  attempt  should  be  made  to 
secure  a  finished  production,  with  set  speeches  and 
action  made  mechanical  by  drill ;  but  the  play  should 
be  a  free,  spontaneous  expression  of  the  childrens' 
interpretation  of  the  story. 


Suggestions  to  Teachers  255 

A  little  simple  costuming  adds  very  much  to  the 
effect  and  pleasure  of  dramatizing.  The  children 
will  greatly  enjoy  making  long  gray  or  brown  capes, 


white  collars,  cuffs,  and  caps  for  the  costumes  of  the 
Pilgrims.  They  can  do  the  small  amount  of  sewing 
necessary  to  make  an  Indian  suit  of  buff  cambric, 
and  decorate  it  with  fringe  and  a  border  drawn  in 
wax  crayons. 

So  many  boys  have  buckskin-colored  Indian  suits 
that  it  may  not  be  necessary  or  expedient  to  make 
them,  but  such  accessories  as  a  quiver  decorated 
with  beads,  a  necklace  of  beads  and  seeds,  a  gay 
headdress  of  feathers,  and  bows  and  arrows  may  be 
made  to  complete  the  costume  of  Massasoit,  Samoset, 
or  Squanto. 


A  READING  LIST 

HISTORY 

BRADFORD.     "History    of    Plymouth     Plantation." 
Wright  &  Potter  Printing  Co. 

BROWN  JOHN.     "The  Pilgrim  Fathers  of  New  Eng 
land."     Fleming  H.  Revell  &  Co. 

DEXTER,  MORTON.     "Story  of  the  Pilgrims."    Pilgrim 
Press. 

GOODWIN,     JOHN    A.      "The     Pilgrim     Republic." 
Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

GRIFFIS,  WILLIAM  ELLIOT.     "The  Pilgrims  in  their 
Three  Homes."     Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co. 

NOBLE,    FREDERICK   A.      "The   Pilgrims."     Pilgrim 
Press. 

YOUNG,  ALEXANDER.     "Edward  Winslow's  Journal" 
(In  "Chronicles  of  the  Pilgrim  Fathers"). 

JUVENILE    BOOKS 

DODGE,  MARY  MAPES.     "Holland  and  Its  Customs" 
(In  "The  Land  of  Pluck").     Century  Co. 

DRAKE,    SAMUEL    ADAMS.     "On    Plymouth    Rock." 
Lee  &  Shephard. 

GEORGE,  MARIAN  M.     "Little  Journeys  to  Holland, 
Belgium,  and  Denmark."     A.  Flanagan. 

GRIFFIS,  W.  E.     "The  Romance  of  American  Coloni 
zation."     W.  A.  Wilde  Co. 

MOORE, MENA.    "Pilgrims  and  Puritans."    Ginn&Co. 

PRATT,    MARA    L.     "Stories    of   Colonial  Children." 
Educational  Publishing  Co. 

STONE  AND  FICKETT.     "Everyday  Life  in  the  Colo 
nies."     D.  C.  Heath  &  Co. 

WARREN,  MAUDE  RADFORD.    "Little  Pioneers."    Rand 
McNally  &  Co. 

256 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A      000254879    o 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


Phone  Renewals 

>*S        ""** 
rl 


UCLA  VRL/ILL 


Unii 
S 


